


You're Safe Here

by Marvelshipstucky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Artist Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes & Sam Wilson Friendship, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Canon Divergence - Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Captain America Steve Rogers, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Sex, Eventual Smut, Flashbacks, Graphic Description, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Steve Rogers, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Rimming, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Sex, Smut, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, Swearing, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:40:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 81,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27720139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvelshipstucky/pseuds/Marvelshipstucky
Summary: "Bucky?""Who the hell is Bucky?"That was the moment that struck Steve the hardest. The blue eyes gray, swimming with nothingness that stared back at him. He had never seen those same eyes look so lifeless. Not eyes that he had only ever known to be so beautiful, full of light. Eyes he stared in lovingly at three am or for a quick stolen glance on the street.---The man in the dark of the night, sitting among the trees, felt as hollow as a cave. His darkness felt out of the ordinary in the beauty of the woods. He looked down at his hands, one warm and flesh, the other cold and metal.--What happens when two past lovers come back together after years of change and torture? Will things work in their favor, or will the world drive them apart?---I do not own any of the characters within this work. All characters owned by Marvel.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 13
Kudos: 53





	1. Prologue

Prologue

_“Bucky”_

_“Who the hell is Bucky”_

That was the moment that struck Steve the hardest. The blue eyes gray, swimming with nothingness that stared back at him. He had never seen those same eyes look so lifeless. Not eyes that he had only ever known to be so beautiful, full of light. Eyes he stared in lovingly at three am or for a quick stolen glance on the street.

This scene was something like no other. The long hair framing the face of his former best friend. Bucky, if he even knew he was Bucky, was always quick to keep his hair greased back and short. The ladies’ man he was, he never wanted to look less than his best. His body was built heavier. Steve knew how hard his Bucky kept his body in peak condition. Sports in school and always using things around their shared apartment as a gym. He remembered the time Bucky bench pressed Steve, laughing about how Steve was his best gym equipment. That was before their friendship took a turn.

They had always been close, grew up that way. When they shared their apartment, shared a bed officially, things changed. Steve leaned his head against the back of the couch, wanting, but not wanting, to remember the memory coming to the front of his skull.

_“C’mon Stevie don’t be like this now,” Bucky started, his arms wrapped around a shivering, cold ridden Steve. “I’d much rather be here; I would think you’d know by now.” He pulled the thin blanket up._

_“You always holdin’ yourself back for me Buck, you don’t have to. You, you had a date.” He shivered._

_Bucky pulled Steve closer, “Dolores won’t mind. ‘Sides, I think she knows.” He paused, weighing the words in his mouth carefully. “She, I think, she knows…she’s second… to you.”_

_Steve paused, his mind soaring. That could mean anything, couldn’t it? This could mean he just was Steve’s best friend. Maybe, if Steve was lucky, Bucky felt the same way Steve did. For months, Steve had started to look at Bucky differently. Each bench press Bucky did of Steve, each sketch that came from his hands of Bucky’s face, Bucky’s body, only made this desire grow. Deep within Steve, he knew that what he felt for Bucky crossed the line of best friend. He had been being really careful not to blur those lines. He knew he could not have Bucky, not that way._

_“Say something.” Bucky pleaded in a whisper, “Anything other than silence.”_

_“I- I don’t understand.” Steve’s tongue felt heavy._

_Bucky sighed, one hand coming off of Steve to move hair from his face, “Maybe it’s best you don’t.”_

_Steve looked up at him, shaking his head. “You could try to explain it.”_

_Bucky’s eyes met Steve’s, drifted down to Steve’s lips, then back up to his eyes. “Maybe I could.” Bucky breathed, “Could I… show you?”_

_Steve nodded, realizing as Bucky’s lips softly met his, the line was blurred._

Steve shook his head, trying to rid the bittersweet memory. That day had been one of the best of his entire life. The line between best friendship and romance blurred. While they had never made it official, they had enough stolen kisses and secret moments that spoke for themselves. They never went back and talked about it. Each time Bucky would come home from work and plant a kiss onto Steve’s lips, or each time Steve would throw the rag of a dish towel at Bucky’s ass, they never thought to speak on it. They were in love, undeniably. What was there to talk about? They knew they could never have it, not then. Talking about it would tarnish it. It was better to live in ignorant bliss.

Steve’s eyes watered, blue eyes turning into oceans as he sat on his couch. He wondered if the broken version of Bucky would remember that memory, only making it worse that _he could_ so easily. Steve instantly felt guilty. How come he got a safe, good serum and Bucky got a broken, tortured serum?

Steve kept replaying the look on Bucky’s face. The look of pain, confusion, anger. He wanted to _kill_ Steve. He looked down at his sketchbook where he had just finished sketching the picture of Bucky right as he asked who _he_ was. The lost look in his eyes captured perfectly in the black and white details. His metal hand drawn cradling the moon, a ball of light within the darkness of Bucky’s aura.

_“Bucky.”_

_Bucky paused, looking over at Steve with a bewildered look, “Who the hell is Bucky?”_

_“You!” Steve looked up from his sketchbook, his thin fingers wrapped around a pencil._

_“Me?” A smile crept onto Bucky’s lips, “When did that become me?”_

_“Well.” Steve started, “You always say how formal James is-”_

_“Because it is.” Bucky interjected with a raised eyebrow._

_“Hey jerk, you going to let me finish?” Steve asked as Bucky gestured for him to continue with a wave of the hand, a chuckle slipping out. “As I was saying,” He gave Bucky a pointed look. “James is formal. Jamie or Jamesy is what Rebecca calls you when she wants to irritate you. Buchanan is too long, and Barnes is what your coach calls you. Buchanan short is the only option-Bucky!”_

_“You know punk, you’re onto something.” Bucky laughed. “I actually kinda like it!”_

Steve shoved his fists against his eyes, trying to stop the tears, to stop the memory. It hurt more to have memories of Bucky when he _knows now_ that Bucky is alive.

He felt alone, more than usual. He had friends, Natasha and Sam were more than enough. Yet, seeing Bucky, knowing he was alive, it stirred something in him. He needed Bucky like he needed air, always had. Bucky may not know him, but he will. Steve looked down at his sketchbook again, the eyes staring back at him empty, but he knew that in there was a sign of life beyond the abuse he suffered.

After all, Bucky did pull Steve from the water. Somewhere, somewhere deep in that tortured body Bucky had to be. Steve set his sketchbook down, smoothing the corner where his fingers had gripped it too tightly. He picked up Bucky’s file, looking at the picture of him in cryofreeze. He had read the folder before and wished that he hadn’t. His blood boiled just thinking of the things they did to him. _Hydra._ He had hoped to get rid of them. With a sigh, Steve flipped through the file. The picture of Sergeant James Barnes sat in the corner. That Bucky, he was in there, or so Steve was convincing himself.

Things went terribly wrong after that train fall, but he knew that now was not the end of the line. There was no end, not yet. Bucky was _back._ He wouldn’t ignore this opportunity, this way to pick up the line that had been cut.

“You won’t leave me like this, Buck.” Steve said to nobody but himself. 

Reaching for his phone, he pulled up Sam’s contact. He wouldn’t let anybody else know he was looking for Bucky. He knew Sam would help him; he had offered. Between the two of them, they could find Bucky. Steve knew the man was a ghost, he would not be able to do it alone. He thought to tell Natasha, but she didn’t trust the Winter Soldier. Steve knew why, after all he did try to kill not only him, but _everyone_ else. Steve would have let him kill him if he knew it would make Hydra rid Bucky of his duty.

Steve brought his mind back to looking at Sam’s contact. Together, they could find him and get him to safety, away from Hydra. Steve made a vow to himself as he clicked call to Sam, he wouldn’t rest again until he finds and helps Bucky. Maybe, if Steve were lucky and right that Bucky was in the Winter Soldier somewhere, they could fall in love for a second time.

\---------

The man in the dark of the night, sitting among the trees, felt as hollow as a cave. His darkness felt out of the ordinary in the beauty of the woods. He looked down at his hands, one warm and flesh, the other cold and metal. He squeezed his fingers into his palm, his nails on his flesh hand making little crescents. He inhaled slowly, his head feeling like it would pop off of his shoulders. He leaned forward, then back, forward again trying to bid off the memories flooding his head, the throbbing making his ears bleed.

_“Bucky.”_

_The boy paused, looking over at a smaller boy with a bewildered look, “Who the hell is Bucky?”_

_“You!” The smaller boy looked up from his sketchbook, thin fingers holding a pencil._

_“Me?” A smile crept onto the boy’s lips. “When did that become me?”_

_“Well.” The other boy started. “You always say how formal James is-”_

There was a gap in the memory. Darkness and agony overshadowing and consuming the image of the small boy looking at, looking at who? Him? Who was he? Was that his memory, could he _trust_ that blurb of a memory. Suddenly it came on again, this time cooling the already chilled blood in his veins.

“… _Buchanan is too long, and Barnes is what your coach calls you. Buchanan short-”_

_Red, red everywhere. It was like somebody in the man’s brain knocked over a gallon of red paint. It consumed the image. Two round, haunting eyes peered out, calling to him._

_“Sergeant Barnes.” The voice was whiney, it was not the voice of the boy that was in his memory prior. “Our greatest creation.”_

_“Just one more time. For us.” Another voice,_

_“The greatest gift to humanity.” Another voice._

_“This man.” The image of a man filled his mind. He was in red, white, and blue, blue eyes piercing through a helmet. “Just one more time.”_

When the man came out of the memory, no longer were his hands fisted in front of him but were now fisted in his long hair, pulling. His head pounded as he tried to blink the red hue from his memory out of his eyes. He took deep, harsh breaths. Anger and worry consuming him. He slowly tried to unravel his hands from his hair, careful not to pull a chunk, stuck between the plates of his fingers.

He had enough within him to know that those two memories were not meant to be together. What was his name, James, no- Bucky, the boy said? The same name the man on the street called him. The man looked at him as the boy had, those vivid blue eyes piercing into his cold soul. Suddenly, the image of the smaller boy stood in his mind, stood inside of the larger man he saw. It flooded his tortured brain; it was all he could see behind his squeezed closed eye lids.

That man was that boy. The man realized then maybe he truly was Bucky. Both versions of one man called him that, it had to be true then.

“Bucky.” He said slowly to himself, his voice like nails on a chalkboard. The name tasted familiar on his tongue like he had said it thousands of times but remembered none of it. “Bucky. Bucky. Bucky…Bucky.” He kept saying it, willing himself to think harder, who _was_ Bucky? Who called Bucky, Bucky? Who was the mystery man who gave him the name? “Bucky, Bucky, Bucky, Steve!” His head shot up, his blue eyes opening wide, electric like lightning.

Steve.

Steve was small, now he was big. Steve was both the boy and the man.

Something twisted in his gut. His head went spinning, the trees dancing. The next thing he knew, he was expelling clear bile into the grass next to him.

He knew two things: his name was Bucky, and the boy and man was Steve.

Bucky wiped his mouth with the back of his gloved, flesh had. Where was he to go from here?


	2. Chapter 1

Ten Months Later

Steve parked his car in the muddy driveway. Usually, he would ride his bike, but it was grocery day after all, and it was drizzling, hinting at the storm coming. He got out, pulling the hood of his raincoat over his head. Moving to the trunk, he began collecting the bags of groceries. It felt like when he was a child, carrying as much as he could to save his mother the multiple carrying trips up the many stairs to their apartment. Not that he was allowed to carry many groceries, Bucky would always come down to help and take the load off Steve.

As he walked up the wooden steps, he knocked on the door once, twice, three times. Yet, there was no answer. He sighed, carefully shifting the weight of the groceries to reach into his back pocket for his key. He wouldn’t allow himself to worry just yet. Unlocking the door and walking in, he noticed how dark the house was. Carefully making his way to the small table that sat just outside the kitchen, he flipped the kitchen light on.

“Bucky?” He called, setting the bags down onto the counter.

Silence.

Steve took a deep breath. Bucky was probably just sleeping, right? He exited the kitchen and started up the stairs of the older safe house, the creaking giving away his presence with each step. As he was halfway, he heard the water of the shower running. _Good,_ Steve thought.

Breathing a full body sigh of relief, he went into the kitchen and started to unpack the groceries. Bucky had been in this safe house for about four weeks now. Steve had learned where Bucky liked to put things, food Bucky liked, food Bucky definitely _did not_ like. He remembered one of their first nights in the safe house, Steve had made Bucky dinner.

“ _Bucky, you cannot just throw away food you don’t like!” Steve protested the canned spinach Bucky dumped in the trash._

_Bucky had just simply shrugged, “It’s terrible. I throw it away because nobody would like it.”_

_“I like it!”_

_“That says nothing.”_

As Steve placed the loaf of bread into the cupboard, he heard Bucky start down the stairs slowly. Steve knew he had to make his presence known to avoid a run in with the side of Bucky he was trying to save. “Hey Buck. It’s Steve.”

He saw Bucky turn the corner tentatively, his hair wet and unbrushed, clinging to the sides of his stubbly cheeks and neck. Glancing down, he saw the knife poking out from the grasp of the metal hand, _glad I made my presence._ “Steve?” Bucky said, voice raspy. He seemed unsure of Steve’s presence.

“It’s grocery day, remember?” Instantly, Steve winced at his choice of words. Bucky sometimes couldn’t remember his name, it’s entirely possible he could forget about the commitment he had with Steve.

They had a routine, predictability for Bucky. He stayed at the safe house and Steve came every other day. Steve wanted to keep Bucky safe and Bucky wanted to be safe. However, he had been hesitant as first, worried that it never mattered where he would be, Hydra would find him. Steve assured him that only himself and Sam would know where Bucky was. Bucky gave in, finding the safe house hidden in the woods comforting. Something about the woods brought Bucky an inner sense of calm, like being among them was the most natural of things. It truly made Steve’s heart clench in his chest.

Steve was comforted by Bucky staying here too. Ever since he woke up from the ice, all he could think about was Bucky and his train fall death. It haunted his dreams, dancing on the darkness of his closed eyelids. Then, Bucky wasn’t dead and all he could think about was giving him safety, helping him the way Bucky had his whole life prior. His dreams shifted to seeing Bucky fall to finding Bucky and pulling him close, never letting him go. Now he was able to give him that safety. If that meant he had to work with the little Bucky gave him now, he would. He would move mountains for Bucky, no matter the version of him. He could only hope Bucky would recognize that, if not now then eventually.

Bucky hadn’t wanted Steve to come at all that week until Thursday, which since it was grocery day, he amended. Steve could tell by the look on his face that Bucky did not know it was Thursday and was definitely not expecting Steve to be standing in his kitchen.

“I uh, I didn’t know what day it was.” Bucky shrugged a shoulder and looked at the bag Steve was unloading. Trying to take attention off himself, he asks, “What are those?” Pointing toward the red box with a bird on it.

“These?” Steve picked the box up, Bucky replying with a small nod. “Fruit loops, you said Cheerios were bland.”

Bucky reached his flesh hand out, “I’m starving.” He said weakly, “Can I have them?”

Steve felt his chest tighten. “You can have whatever you want Buck, this is your home, you don’t have to ask.”

Bucky nodded once, ripping the box and then bag of the Fruit Loops open. He reached in and took out a handful and shoved them into his mouth. Steve watched as Bucky suppressed a small smile on his lips from the sweetness hitting his lips. Steve really missed when Bucky would smile. He could tell Bucky would suppress emotions, his Hydra days stripping him of his own emotion and refilling it with cool, calm, and calculated. He didn’t want Bucky to feel he had to suppress any feeling any longer, whether it be a small smile or a tsunami of tears.

“Better than the other stuff.” Bucky said, reaching his hand back in. He looked back at the bags Steve brought, his eyes scanning. “Steve.” He said slowly, causing Steve to tense, “Why did you buy those green balls again?”

“Brussel sprouts?” Steve quirked a brow when Bucky made a face. “I thought you liked them.” Steve stopped himself from telling Bucky he had loved them when he was a kid.

Bucky shook his head, eating another handful of cereal. “They smelled really weird.”

Steve chuckled. “Smell and taste, two different things.”

“Not when you breathe the scent through your mouth.” Bucky quipped.

Steve smiled; he would take the little bit of humor Bucky gave him, even if it was a front for the fact he hadn’t known what day it had been. If Steve was honest with himself, he really missed Bucky this whole week apart. He knew Bucky was healing and needed his space, especially when he asked for it. He knew he could spend every day with Bucky, no matter the version of him. Something about how undeniable his love was for his best friend. Sam kept him in check though, reminding Steve that Bucky came first, not his own “selfish” desires.

_“He doesn’t want me to come for the whole week.” Steve instantly said to Sam when he exited the stairwell door onto Sam’s floor of the tower. “Should I be worried? Did I do something?”_

_Steve didn’t mind that he came off strong with his emotion to Sam, instantly showing his vulnerability. Sam made him feel safe, comfortable, valid. He made him feel that his feelings really did matter. He was more than Captain America; he was allowed to show worry and concern._

_"Hi to you too.” Sam looked up from his couch, phone in hand scrolling through social media._

_Steve blushed, “Sorry. Hey.” He moved and sat in the armchair, looking at Sam with sad eyes._

_“So, start over.” Sam locked his phone and set it on the coffee table, plopping his feet up at the edge of it._

_Steve sighed, “He was writing in his journal and looked up and his eyes flashed with something I had never seen before. In my whole life. Pre-serum and all, I swear. Well maybe the day he tried to kill me, but anyway.” Steve rambled. “Then he just told me to leave and come back in a week.”_

_Sam nodded listening, “And you agreed, right?”_

_“I did but because I had no choice!” Steve protested. “What if he gets hurt, or needs me, or worse they come back for him-”_

_“Steve.” Sam held his hand up. “Stop.” Steve closed his mouth. “For one, Bucky’s a damn brickhouse, the man can hold his own. You and I would both know.” He smirked slightly, reminding Steve that Bucky had definitely tried to kick their asses. “Secondly, don’t be selfish. The man needs to heal. You know this. If he wants space, you have to respect that.” He gave him a small sincere smile, “I’m sure you did nothing wrong and it’s just something that he wants. He deserves to make his own choices, even if that means he chooses to be alone.”_

_“You’re right.” Steve took a deep breath and rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand._

_Reaching for his cup, Sam pointed toward him. “And you gave him a phone! He knows how to use it, if he needs you, he’ll use it. Don’t worry.” He took a drink of his water. “You’re doing the best you can. He comes first in your mind and he needs to come first in his too.”_

“Want me to make you a meal?” Steve asked, his eyes scanning quickly down Bucky’s body. His black Henley fit loose, but not as loose as four weeks ago. Bucky was extremely built, thanks to the serum and his own gains, but it was still clear he wasn’t eating enough. His middle was still smaller than it should be to the rest of his body. His green sweatpants fit the same way, hugging his thighs but not nearly as much as Steve remembered his slacks hugging them in their childhood. The image of Bucky in his black gear crossed his mind, the way it hugged his thighs. He instantly willed the image out of his head, now was not the time.

Bucky shook his head, licking the cereal dust from his fingers.

“When was the last time you had a meal?” Steve gently prodded, putting a jar of peanut butter away. Steve knew when he came the previous week, at least Bucky had a decent meal every other day. Steve couldn’t get a good enough read on if Bucky had truly taken care of himself this past week. This was hard for him, not being able to read his best friend like the back of his hand. Now, it made his care look like coddling and that was not what Steve wanted- it was farthest from his intentions.

Bucky looked at Steve, his face showing his defense. “I appreciate your help, but I’m capable of being independent. I know to eat.” He snapped.

Steve nodded, pressing his lips together. After a couple moments of awkward silence, Steve spoke up again. “So,” Steve started, “What have you been up to since I saw you last week?” He decided on.

Bucky thought about his answer, pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth before releasing it slowly with a breath. “You uh, nothin’.” He settled on. His defensive posture had dropped into one of slight worry.

“I what?”

Bucky set the box down and just turned around, walking out of the kitchen. He kept quiet as he stepped into the dark living room. The incoming storm outside provided no light into the living room at all. As Bucky maneuvered himself to the green couch, Steve followed tentatively. He wasn’t sure if Bucky was trying to get away from him. He hadn’t tried to stop Steve from following, so he proceeded with caution. He flipped the light on, and his blue eyes went wide.

The living room was destroyed. The lamp not attached to the light switch laid shattered on the ground, the armchair pushed onto its side. Scattered around the room were papers and journals. There were scribbles, drawings, wadded up balls of paper, there was red paint- no, blood, Steve knew better than to convince himself it was anything else. Yet he really, really wanted to believe it was anything else. There was also fuzz from a pillow with definite knife marks.

“ _Don’t_.” Bucky said darkly, his voice low. “Don’t even comment.” Bucky had sat down on the couch, on top of crumbled paper. The way he sat, a man wrapped around his own destruction, was as emotional as it was threatening.

Steve nodded once, stepping deeper into the living room. He looked at the different pieces of paper under his feet. His enhanced sight picking up on the details.

 _Steve was skinny, he had-_ the paper ripped and crumbled.

 _Bucky. Your name is Buck,-_ Harsh dark scribbles crossed out the rest of the sentence, taking the “y” of Bucky’s name with it.

 _Chair, metal brackets, shocking his brain-_ there was a rough sketch before red splotches obscured the rest of the page.

“I know you’re staring; you think I’m a bad man, but I’m not.” His voice was dark, a calm thunder in the stormy atmosphere of the room.

“I have never thought that.” Steve defended.

“I wanted to remember.” Bucky said weakly, darkly, ignoring Steve’s response. “I can’t.” He ran his hands through his wet, tangled hair. Steve could tell that Bucky sitting in the mess was bothering him, so when his metal finger got stuck in a tangle, Steve knew he would react harshly. Yanking and wincing, “Fuck!” Bucky pulled his finger free, small hairs sticking out from the plates, reflecting off the minimal light in the sad space.

“Bucky.” Steve stepped toward him and Bucky shook his head.

“Don’t come near me. Don’t touch me.” His tone was low leaving no room for argument.

He paused in his tracks. “Why don’t we leave the room?” Steve tried to compromise, “We can go upstairs and brush your hair and I can clean this up. How does that sound?”

“You don’t need to clean up my mess. I’m not incompetent.” He snapped, pulling a piece of hair out from between the grooves of his fingers harshly.

“I never said-”

“Your actions show it!” Bucky jumped up, moving across the room, glaring at Steve. “I get it, I’m not safe for society because I do shit like this. You want to clean up _my_ mess because you think I’ll hurt myself, or it’ll make you feel better, or maybe I’ll-”

“No! Buck-”

“Let me talk! Fuck, Steve.” Bucky took a deep breath, “I don’t need you to keep breathing down my neck. Just,” He paused. Steve could see his mind working and then finally his face froze, reflecting his cold decision. “Just go. I’ll call you, believe it or not my “not burner” burner phone is still intact.”

Steve winced slightly but nodded. Sam’s words echoed in his mind, “ _He deserves to make his own choices, even if that means he chooses to be alone_ ”.

Steve stepped out of the living room and into the kitchen to grab his keys. As he left, he could feel Bucky watching him from the living room window.

\---------

Steve was living in the Avengers Tower. He liked it well enough. He was always able to see his friends, never had to be alone. The downfall however, leaving- or sneaking- out and coming back in. That always proved to be a challenge. He was grateful for Sam; he would always cover for where Steve was running off to every other day. Steve couldn’t tell anybody that he knew of Bucky’s whereabouts, they’d take him, throw him in the Raft, and that’d be the end of it. He wouldn’t get a fair trial; they’d blame him for the countless murders that he did but didn’t do. They’d damage him more, the last thing Bucky needed. Right now, Steve just needed to keep him safe and help him find himself, even if Bucky was pushing him away now.

As he made his way to his floor of the Tower, the elevator stopped on the floor below his, Sam’s. Sure enough, Sam walked into the elevator, “You never take this thing. You and your love of stairs and all.” Sam turned his head toward him as the doors shut. “What happened?”

Steve gave a sad smile. “Sometimes, I want to be lazy. How’d you know I was here?”

“I told FRIDAY to let me know when you were back.” He snorted, “Also, untrue you make me run like eighteen hundred miles every day with you.” They exited onto Steve’s floor and the elevator shut behind them. “You never like to be ‘lazy’. Shocking you even know the word.”

“We run like eight miles for one.” Steve walked toward his kitchen, setting the keys on the counter. “And I do not _make_ you, you _choose_ to come.”

Sam smirked, rolling his eyes. “So, Barnes? How was he after his break from your ass?” Steve found it amusing that Sam didn’t even have to ask if Steve was with Bucky, Sam just knew. Granted, Sam knew their routine.

Steve sighed, “Not entirely sure if I’m being honest. The same maybe?” He grabbed two cups.

“What happened?” He took the cup of water Steve offered, “Thanks.” And sat down at the kitchen table.

“Told me to go.” Steve shrugged, “Said he’d call.” He frowned, taking a sip from his own water. “Oh, and the living room was wrecked.”

Sam frowned, “He let you clean it?”

“No.” Steve leaned against the counter, facing Sam. “I think he was defensive because it was scattered with torn memories. Literally, he wrote memories and if he couldn’t finish them or they triggered something in him, I’m assuming that’s what happened. Not like he told me, not that I blame him.” Steve felt pain just telling Sam this. “It just caused him to rip or throw them. He’s trying, which is great, but it’s both emotionally and physically hurting him. There was blood.”

“How’d he hurt himself?”

“Could’ve been a number of ways. He did throw things around. A lamp was shattered, he either carved or stabbed into a pillow. I’m sure any of that could have drawn some blood. His healing factor though,” Steve waved a hand, “Prevents me from seeing bodily damage. It’s about as good as mine.”

Sam nodded. “Steve,” He started but Steve held a hand up knowing where Sam was going. “No, listen.” He put his hand down slowly. “You’re doing everything you can. No _don’t_ look at me like that, you are. You cannot reach out to Barnes right now, let him reach out to you. Show him you care about his space. He isn’t the Bucky you had when you were sixteen Steve, he could still be in there, but he isn’t right now. Let him come back to you. You already came back to him. You both have a weird connection.”

“Love?” Steve offered quietly, knowing Sam would squash it. Steve couldn’t help it though; he was still so in love. He pushed the romantic side away and yet was still left flooding with love for his best friend. He hoped somewhere, Bucky was too. It was selfish, but it was his heart calling for the other half.

“Steve, let him find and love himself first before you climb him like a tree.”

Steve snorted, but nodded in agreement. The emotion rushing and flooding his brain, his eyes. He blinked back unshed tears. “He didn’t deserve this.”

Sam shook his head. “No. No he didn’t.” He said quietly.

Steve looked down at his water as he swirled it around in the cup. “It’s not easy to see him like this.” Some water tipped over the edge, hitting the ground with a quiet splash.

“I never said it was.” Sam sat up straighter in the chair. “I couldn’t imagine watching Riley in this situation. I don’t know your pain, I’m trying to understand it, Steve. I care about you,” FRIDAY interrupted both of them.

“Captain, Falcon, your presence is requested in the living space.”

“Coming.” Steve said, setting his cup down. “We can talk more later. I don’t want to leave them waiting and make them suspicious. I have been unintentionally avoiding them after all.”

Sam nodded, getting up and leaving his water on the table. “Unintentional? Or very intentional? Let me remind you, dinner last week that you missed, Peter talked about spider fluid the whole time! Talk about an appetite killer. I was ready to unintentionally, intentionally leave them all.”

Steve laughed as they entered the elevator.

Both of them exited the elevator and made their way into the living room where chaos had definitely broken out. Tony was yelling at Peter from the kitchen. “You cannot!” Tony pointed toward him with an accusing finger, “What does it look like I’m running here? A bed and breakfast, hotel situation here?”

“It technically is.” Vision defended Peter. “Except, we pay you nothing.”

“Seriously? I made you, how do you not constantly agree with me?”

Steve turned his attention to Natasha, but her attention was already on him. She was looking at him with an eyebrow raised. “Hey there, Captain.” She smirked and sat up from her lounging position on the couch. “Long time, no see.”

“Cap!” Tony turned his attention to Steve, “How’s my one and only super soldier? Glad you came, important matters to discuss.”

“Actually important or your definition of important?” Sam quipped as he made his way over to Natasha and plopped down beside her, putting his leg over hers jokingly.

“Mine, but mine matters most.”

“Sure.” Steve scoffed, sitting down in one of the armchairs.

“We need quality time! Mr. Stark said it’d be great to have a game night. But not monopoly since he cheats,” Tony gasped, “I mean is too good!” Peter quickly saved himself.

“Oh man, not this again.” Sam wiped his face, “What do you suggest we play then, spider-boy? Hopscotch, tic-tac-toe?”

“I’m fifteen not three!”

“I see no difference.”

“What do we play?” Clint interjected from his spot on the floor in front of Natasha. A bag of potato chips sat in his lap. “I’m down to play a game to kick all your asses.”

“This seems,” Sam raised his eyebrows, “Like a waste of time! Who’s with me!” He clapped.

“Nobody answers that!” Tony plopped down in the other armchair. “Or you all have to move out.” 

“A shame that would be.” Steve joked.

“Hey, with how much you’ve been going out, I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a home on the side. A side-home. How rude, how would your floor feel about that?”

“He’s got a point, Rogers. You plan on leaving us?” Natasha smiled at him, her green eyes shining with mirth.

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Steve joked, trying to be convincing enough to bring the attention away from the subject.

“So, game?” Wanda asked.

“Yes! I was thinking Twister!” Tony interjected.

“No.” Clint groaned, rolling the bag of chips closed. “Last time we played, Nat was wrapped around me and I felt too threatened. Also, I can’t win in Twister.”

“All of that sounds like a you problem.” She shrugged.

“Uno!” Peter ran into the living space with a thick card deck. “Let’s play Uno!”

“Good idea!” Tony clapped. “Gather around my super children, it’s family bonding game night!”

Peter sat on the floor by Tony. Wanda came over with Vision and both of them sat on the couch across from where Nat and Sam sat.

Peter shuffled and dished out the cards. “Who should go first?”

“Me!” Clint grinned, “Hell yeah let me!” He moved to the left of Natasha and squeezed himself onto the couch.

Natasha smirked, “I’ll give you all of my draw fours.”

“You can’t admit you have them!” Wanda laughed.

“Shit.” Clint mumbled, putting down a green four to begin the game. “I’m screwed.”

Wanda placed her green draw two. “Sorry Vis.”

“Starting off strong, I see.” Vision laughed, “I can already feel my loss.”

Steve smiled, the corner of his eyes crinkling slightly, eyes shining with affection. He hadn’t been spending a lot of his time with this family, his second family. He did feel bad that he hadn’t been, but Bucky was his family too, his first, his most valuable family. He didn’t want to forget about the people who have really took him in though. He cared so much about the Avengers; he might argue he cares the most. All of them had a special place in his heart.

Only Sam and Natasha really understood him, and maybe Thor when he was around. It made him all the more grateful for them in their own special way. Sure, Tony annoyed Steve a majority of the time, but Tony annoyed Bruce just as much. It made great bonding conversations with Bruce. He wouldn’t trade Tony for anything, well maybe some things. At the end of the day though, he wouldn’t trade any of this family. He was glad to be having tonight with them, even if the thought of Bucky was still ringing in the back of his head.

Bruce, to the right of Tony, dropped his green five.

Tony placed a draw four to Steve. “Ha! Pick them _all_ up, Captain Draw Four. Not my best joke.” He laughed, “Oh and the color is red now.”

Okay, maybe he could do without Tony tonight. “Just wait until it reverses.” He leaned forward and picked up all four cards. “Just you wait.”


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sitting in the darkness of the now clean living room, Bucky looked down at the small sketchbook in his lap. He wondered if Steve knew he had taken it from his jacket pocket over a week ago. Page after page, full of Bucky’s face, the skyline, the commando uniforms, sun and moon art. Some of Bucky’s favorites were the sun and moon themed art. Steve had sketched young Bucky in a sun themed sketch, the sunshine surrounding his beautiful, radiating sketched features. Then Winter Solider Bucky into a stunning moon themed sketch. The before Bucky art really spooked now Bucky. He didn’t even recognize that man. The face was so young, so innocent, so beautiful. Shifting his gaze to the current him sketch, a metal hand was sketched as a cradle for the moon. It made the metal arm seem less threatening. His metal thumb slowly traced the page of the sun and moon themed art. For a moment, Bucky let himself believe the hand could be gentle, harmless, and beautiful too. He could be the art.

He had decided not to see Steve since that day he cast him out. He texted him and said no to having him come for the following Thursday grocery day, claiming he had enough food. Granted, that hadn’t been a lie, he did have enough. He was eating, but in spurts. Mostly, he sat in the living room, or on the porch, trying to will thoughts, full thoughts, into his mind.

He had cleaned the living room, he _had_ to. He was so embarrassed after Steve saw what he had done. He had just snapped that previous day. If he had remembered Steve would have been coming that following day, he would’ve cleaned it up before. 

_Bucky looked down at the journal, frustrated. The thoughts just stopped, completely ceased in their destroyed pathways. Like always. What was the point to think when all it did was get him nowhere? All he would get was pain. He threw the journal across the couch, knocking the lamp onto the ground._

_“Fuck.” He chocked out. He hadn’t meant to throw it that hard. He snarled at his metal limb._ Curse this fucking arm, _He thought._

_He felt even more frustrated as he got up. He was going to clean his mess of lamp pieces and leave the room. He was weak, giving up on himself for the day. Walking toward the shatter, he picked up a piece of glass with his flesh hand, accidently cutting part of it. He cursed himself for not using his indestructible limb. That was all it took. Bucky let himself be flooded with nothing but anger as he destroyed every broken memory and thought he had taken note of while sitting there for the past seven hours._

_Grabbing his knife, he stacked a list of what he believed to be useless memories and stabbed through them so hard it stabbed the pillow. Dragging the knife harshly through the crinkled paper, the pillow split open spilling fuzz like a body would blood._

_He hurt a pillow! He was beside himself at this point. He couldn’t even keep something lifeless, a fucking pillow, safe. He threw the knife, sticking it into the wall, and screamed his anger. He filled the world with his pain._

Bucky still felt embarrassed. He didn’t want Steve to know he was struggling as bad as he was. He felt he had to be strong, if not only for himself but for Steve. It was almost ingrained in him to be strong for Steve, it would make Steve happy. It was silly really, he knew that, because he knows that Steve would do anything for him. It was obvious with the way Steve moved around Bucky, talked to Bucky- he cared so deeply that it _hurt_ Bucky. Though, just because Steve would do anything for him doesn’t mean he wants him to. He wants to be independent, to feel like he can make his own choices with no consequences. He could just be himself.

_“You know,” Steve, the smaller Steve, laughed. “You could let me go by myself.”_

_“Well isn’t that a crazy thought!” Bucky laughed back, moving hair out of Steve’s face. “You’re sick.”_

_“It’s a cold.” He sounded exasperated. “I’ve survived worse.”_

_Another voice cut in, “You have survived once more, Soldat.”_

_“For you, that’s sick. Let me take care of you. I want to, I have to.” Bucky’s voice wrapped around a small Steve._

_“Sergeant Barnes.”_

_His metal hand caressed Steve’s small face. “I always want to take care of you.” The hand squeezed, Bucky’s breathing shallow._

_“Sergeant Barnes.”_

_“32557038. 32557038. 32257038.” His own voice repeated._

_“Buck,” Steve’s voice, “Buck, you’re hurting me.”_

_“325…57…038.”_

_“Sergeant Barnes.”_

_“Bucky!”_

Bucky’s eyes snapped open, the twisted memories fading away and the living room coming back into view. He got up, walking to turn on the light switch, his breathing unsteady. He sank down on the wall, just underneath the light switch. He wanted the memories, but not like this. He wanted them for free, not with the price of agony. Reaching up, he wiped the small drop of blood that spilled from his ears. Not every memory caused that level of agony, but Bucky could tell with the way his head throbbed and his breathing hurt, blood was shed on that one.

He tries to decode the memories, always. No matter how twisted they get, he needs to figure them out. Steve was sick, he was taking care of him. Bucky scoffed to himself, “How times have changed.” He leans his head against the wall, eyes drooping. Who was calling for him? It wasn’t Steve. A voice much younger than his was saying his number, that much he knew. Reaching under the collar of his white t-shirt, he pulled his dog tags out and off. Steve had given them to him when he moved into the safe house, so he had “a part of himself” Steve had said, but they felt like the farthest thing from him.

_“What happened to you?”_

_“I joined the army!”_

_“Did it hurt?”_

_“A little.”_

_“Is it permanent?”_

_“So far.”_

Bucky pulled the dog tags completely off and ran his fingers over his name. _James Buchanan Barnes._ What could he do to be that man again? To be that James Buchanan Barnes, not The Winter Solider Barnes, would be a desired change of pace. Just putting his name in the same sentence as the monster Hydra had morphed him into made his nearly empty stomach convulse. 

Hastily, he put the tags back on, leaving them on the outside of his t-shirt. He got up and walked into the kitchen. As he opened the fridge, his stomach growled loudly. When was the last time he ate? Yesterday morning, yes, he had made a peanut butter jelly with potato chips shoved inside it. When was the last time he showered? That he pondered before realizing it had been about four days. Bucky shook his head as he reached in the fridge and grabbed a yogurt. He felt so weak, eating and showering felt like too much effort to commit himself to.

After any memory he got, he felt exceptionally weak. It took so much energy for what he considers to be a worthless effort. It made his head throb for what? All he ever would get was broken fragments or short snippets of what he imagines were longer, sometimes beautiful, memories.

As he moved and sat at the small kitchen table, he looked out into the rest of the empty safe house. He was safe, for that he was grateful. Being alone, not so much. Part of him kind of missed Steve. He missed having somebody there, even if they sometimes sat in silence. As he already hit the bottom of the yogurt container with a spoon, he felt his heads pulse quicken.

_“Becca!” Bucky groaned, reaching into the back of the fridge. “You can’t just put two spoonsful of cottage cheese away. Now I have to find something else.”_

_Steve laughed in the background as Becca replied, “But you wanted some, right? I left you some!”_

_“Not enough, I’m a growing boy.” Bucky shut the fridge and turned around to grab a piece of bread. “Oh Stevie it’s so funny, huh?” He pointed at Steve with his piece of bread, “I won’t share with you now, takin’ Becca’s side, what kinda best friend does such a thing?” He muttered the last part, his lips curving up into a smile._

Bucky uses his metal hand to crush the yogurt cup, like destroying the shape of the cup would ease the pain in his mind. Was Steve always there? He hadn’t had a single memory that didn’t involve that soft blonde hair and those bright blue eyes.

How did he remember the hair was soft? He knows he hasn’t touched Steve’s hair since way before he saw him again. Wait- He had a thought that wasn’t mutilated. It was small, but he felt a small amount of satisfaction for the first time in a long time. Hopefully, he was going to have a breakthrough, a small blurb to grow into some bigger, whole memories. It had been about eleven months since he escaped Hydras grasp and had been searching for memories, about ten months since Steve had found him.

_Bucky sat in the run-down kitchen of the run-down apartment building he found himself staying in. A journal sat in one hand and a half-eaten granola bar sat in the other. After he saw that man, Steve, he was thinking so hard as to who he was, what he did before his hopefully temporary demise. Hopefully, he would be able to get better, putting the blood and destruction he has caused behind him._

_He had visited a museum and was stunned when he had seen himself there, standing to the left of none other than Steve dressed in the red, white, and blue Captain America gear. It had stunned him, knowing the man he was set out to kill was a man who had been his friend “on and off the battlefield”. He could tell from the photos and broken memories he was having; friendship may not have been the correct term. He seemed so close to this man, maybe too close. He hasn’t been so close to somebody in… he couldn’t even put a number on it. All he knew was it was long, too long and not long enough all at once. He doesn’t know if he would even trust himself now to get close to a bird._

_He had some of Steve and none of Steve at the same time. Everything seemed broken, off, not piecing together. He looked down at what was currently rewritten into this journal so he wouldn’t forget what he felt were the basics, “Your name is James Buchanan Barnes. Your Birthday is on March 10, 1917. You were a Sargent in the 107 th. You helped Steve. You fell and survived because you were injected with something. You lost part of your left arm, they cut the rest off and-“ _ _He was interrupted in rereading his thoughts when he heard shuffling outside the worn front door. Bucky internally cursed and rolled quietly, hiding in the corner. Grabbing his knife from inside his shoe, he braced himself for an attack. He heard the front door open and wondered if jumping out the window would be safer than an unwarranted altercation._

_"Bucky?” A voice called, a voice he instantly recognized- Steve._

_Shit._

_Bucky knew from the museum that Steve was a public figure, a captain then, an Avenger now. He was here to take Bucky, put him into prison, potentially experiment on him more- "_ _Bucky you here? It’s Steve… Rogers.” His tone was nothing but a fake calm, wavering between pleading and concern._

_Bucky held his breath as he heard the footsteps coming toward the kitchen. Steve’s feet were quiet, but Bucky’s hearing was optimal. He quickly sprung up, grabbing Steve from behind. His left arm wrapped around his slim waist and his right hand brought the knife dangerously close to Steve’s throat._

_“No, do not.” Steve said affirmatively but it sounded distant, not meant for Bucky. Then he added, definitely to Bucky, “I’m not here to hurt you, Buck. You don’t have to fight me.”_

_Bucky said nothing, breathing harsh as he held Steve tight so he couldn’t go anywhere._

_“I want to help you.” Steve said calmly, collected, but his breathing was spiked showing Bucky that he was at least a little afraid. “Do you know who I am?”_

_Pausing before answering, “You’re Steve... I read about you in a museum.” He said slowly. To Bucky, the question felt like a test._

_Bucky looked at Steve, his head was turned down and scanning over the open journals scattered around the apartment. “I know you’re nervous, plenty of reason to be. But you’re lying.”_

_Bucky remained completely still, silent, the knife still inches away from the soft skin of Steve’s throat._

_"You pulled me from the river. Why?” His tone slipped between Steve Rogers and Captain America, reminding him of his distant memories and current interactions with the same man._

_"I don’t know."_

_“Yes, you do.”_

_Bucky shoved Steve away into the table, the knife still in his hand and pointing toward Steve. “Why are you here?”_

_“To help you.” Steve said simply, his arms out and palms spread to show he was at Bucky’s mercy. “I know you fled. I know you aren’t with them anymore.”_

_“You’re spying on me?” Bucky asked, low and threatening. Steve had acknowledged Bucky was freeing himself, but was Steve free of the enemy too?_

_“No…yes, but only because I want to help you, Bucky, I swear.” He took a step toward Bucky who then took a step back. Steve shifted his gaze to the mattress that laid on the floor of the living room with a thin plaid blanket on top of it. Bucky could see pain flash across Steve’s face before he spoke again, voice still trying to be as calm as possible. “I can take you to a safe house. Warm bed, fresh clothes, I’ll even grocery shop weekly for you if you’re worried of getting caught. You won’t have to run anymore.”_

_Bucky shook his head, wishing he could have that but knowing he couldn’t. “I’ll always have to run. They’re most likely looking for me now.”_

_“Safehouse means only I’ll know. And a friend of mine- but he helped me find you, you can trust him too.”_

_“I don’t trust you.” Bucky evened him a look, knife still being held toward Steve._

_“Think about it.” Steve’s eyes met Bucky’s and were full of nothing but sincerity, mercy._

Putting his spoon in the sink and throwing the cup away, he grabs the stolen sketchbook and goes upstairs to his bedroom. Setting the book down on the gray bedspread, he looks down at the burner phone on his dresser. He knows he needs to shower; he knows he should try to sleep.

But, he knows Steve is the only thing on his mind that seems relevant.

Steve had always been there, every memory and still trying to be in person now. Bucky was starting to think it was only right to try to continue that on his own end. Maybe, if his broken soul were lucky, it would help having Steve around more. Maybe Steve would unlock a hidden Bucky box within his tortured soul that would bring him back from the living dead.

He glanced over at the clock and saw it was four a.m. “Shit.” Bucky ran his flesh hand over his face. He sat down on his bed and picked up the phone. Flipping it open, he went to the two contacts in his phone, Steve, and Sam, and clicked Steve. Would Steve be up? Does he call him? Does he text him? He was bad at this.

**Bucky: What are you doing**

Bucky sent the message and set the phone down next to the closed sketchbook. He waited, staring at the phone, willing for it to beep. Part of him felt stupid, why would Steve be up at four a.m.? He should have just waited, he should have-

**Steve: Sketching. What are you doing?**

Bucky read the message, then read it again. Why was Steve sketching at four a.m.? Bucky worried for Steve, was Steve okay? Bucky was up at four a.m. because he _was not_ okay. Steve was taking such great care of Bucky, yet he maybe wasn’t okay himself. Here Steve was, a man with too good of a heart that he’s saving everybody else when he may need the saving the most. Guilt rushed over Bucky. He bit his lip and read the message again, what was he doing? Nothing. He just didn’t want to be alone and he only, albeit very weakly, trusted Steve. Sam was still a stranger to him. Steve was… a friend? His memory Steve and this Steve didn’t quite add up yet.

**Bucky: Ate a yogurt. Come over?**

Instantly, Steve replied, giving Bucky no room to sulk over the message he sent.

**Steve: Coming. Need anything?**

Bucky took a deep breath. It was that easy for Steve to come? All he did was ask. He was shocked. He thought about what he needed and frowned. He needed a new journal. After his fiasco a couple weeks ago, he needed to replace the journals he destroyed like he was a paper shredder.

**Bucky: A new journal.**

**Steve: I’ll have it. Be there soon.**

Bucky locked the phone shut and got up. He decided he would shower before Steve got there. After all, Steve had said the drive was thirty minutes, or maybe it was longer. Bucky just knew it was long, he didn’t remember the specifics.

The living room was clean, there was only a couple dirty dishes, both details he felt would make him look better in Steve’s eyes. He might even look like he didn’t have any meltdowns, which he definitely had multiple in their span of time apart. The strong, Winter Soldier side of him believed he was too strong to be allowed to show all the emotion. Bucky just wanted to rip the Winter Solider side of his brain out. Grabbing at his own forehead, he tried to will the idea of him being the Winter Solider again out of his mind. He was _Bucky_ , he could be weak if he wanted to. He was allowed, nobody would hurt him, Steve and Sam would never. Yet, he was conditioned that he _couldn’t_ feel, that the unfeeling Winter Solider was what he had to be _always_.

He moved into the bathroom and turned the shower on. All he needed was a quick shower. Stripping, he paused and stood before the mirror, staring at his own reflection. His eyes looked like two hollow caves, the bags under his eyes dark and large. Scanning down his body, his left shoulder was hot red and puffy from not relaxing his arm and shoulder in the past couple days. He kept having nightmares, sleeping made them too vivid. Staying up, moving around, they couldn’t get him that way. He could see that it could though as it was getting to his body. As he kept scanning, he saw the scars that littered his left side and torso. His torso, which could be filled out more. His ribs seemed protruding, more on the left than the right. _God, he hated his left side now._ He couldn’t tear his eyes away from his reflection despite wanting to so badly. He felt haunted by it, like if he stared long enough it would react the way his inner thoughts do. Maybe it would jump out of the mirror and wrap the metal hand around his _own neck,_ making him feel the pain he put into others when those unrelenting fingers squeezed their neck.

He forced himself to tear his eyes away and squeezed them shut. He reached and pulled the shower curtain back, stepping into the burning hot water. Standing under the showerhead, he let the water wrap around him, consume him. It swallowed him whole, sinking him down into the tub. Pulling his knees up to his chest, water became his layer of protection from the outside world. He could feel weak here, nobody could see him, nobody could hurt him. His mind blurred as his head throbbed.

_Bucky laid in a small bed, looking toward a bathroom attached to the small bedroom he was in. Light poured into the room. “Stevie, doll, how long does it take to trim your bangs?”_

_Steve laughed and Bucky knew it was one accompanied with an eyeroll. “A lot longer than a minute! I need them to be even, but styled, you know?” Steve paused a beat, not even letting Bucky get a word in, “You don’t know!” Steve peeped his head around the door frame accusingly, the worn kitchen scissors in hand. “Last time, you ruined them!”_

_“Hey now, I thought they looked great!” Bucky defended himself. “’Sides, what you get for asking me to cut hair. What do I look like-”_

_"Soldat.” A voice cut in._

_Steve came out of the bathroom a couple minutes later, bangs trimmed but in Bucky’s eyes, they looked the same. Bucky’s eyes trailed down Steve’s slim chest, down to the waistband of his white boxers that came closer until they were sitting on his lap._

_“And you say that_ I _stare.” Steve rolled his eyes lovingly and leaned his forehead onto Bucky’s forehead._

_“Can’t help it, you’re beautiful.” He ran his fingers through Steve’s soft, now trimmed hair._

_“Bucky?”_

_“Sergeant Barnes?” Came the whiney voice._

_“You have to say that.” Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re just a sweet talker.”_

_“Only,”_

_“Bucky!”_

_“Sweet to you.” He leaned toward Steve’s lips._

_“Bucky!”_

“Bucky!”

Bucky’s eyes shot open, shivers ripping through his spine as the now cold water encased him harshly. His layer of water protection broken as it was now chilling him to his core. His knees were still pulled high to his chest, protecting both his chest and torso. The difference to this scene than when his eyes first closed was a clothed Steve was now before him. Clothes sticking to his toned chest and thighs as he knelt in front of Bucky in the shower. Bucky said nothing, reaching his metal hand back to turn the water off, metal on metal screeching quietly. 

His eyes never left Steve’s face. Steve’s face was full of concern, his blue eyes searching Bucky’s face. Bucky respected that they never drifted down his scarred and shivering body. He didn’t touch Bucky either, using only words to coax him from his memory. “You there, Buck? It’s Steve.”

Bucky nodded once, remaining silent. He was hit with emotion, not anger, but sadness. He wanted to cry. Cry and let out all of his negative feelings. He was tired, he was cold, he was frustrated. The memory had been sweet, only two subtle reminders of who he was, not only Bucky, but Hydra’s toy soldier. Now here he sat, hair sticking to his cold, wet body and filled with embarrassment at being caught in such a vulnerable position.

Steve got up slowly and pulled the curtain back to grab a towel. “Here, I’ll turn around.” Bucky reached up and grabbed the towel as Steve turned around. Slowly, Bucky got up, his legs sore and jelly-like from being held so close to his chest with no movement. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he grunted to let Steve know it was fine.

“Did you, uh, did you finish your shower? I could grab you clothes if you did if you want?” His voice sounded hesitant.

Bucky shook his head, his blue eyes turning into storm clouds bound to burst with heavy drops. “I didn’t.”

“I can help you,” Steve started. “If you want?”

Bucky noticed the tiredness in his eyes, instantly wishing he hadn’t asked Steve to come, but his selfishness was happy he was here. “’S okay.” Bucky grabbed another towel and wrapped his hair up. “I’ll finish tomorrow.”

Bucky moved past Steve and walked into his bedroom and reached into his drawers. Sparing a glance behind him, Steve was standing in the doorway of the bathroom, eyes pointed at the floor so Bucky could get dressed. “Thanks.” Bucky said, pulling his shirt on. The word felt so weighted. He had so many things he was thankful for from Steve, was this thanks for him looking away? For coming over at four in the morning because Bucky felt alone? Was it for the groceries he usually brought?

_"Thank you. You’re a gift to mankind.”_

Bucky shook the memory away and pulled on sweatpants. He was grateful that the memory didn’t come on. He knew that voice, he _hated_ that voice, it was faceless and stern. “Don’t have to thank me.” Bucky heard Steve’s soft voice say, pulling him from his thoughts. “But I appreciate you thanking me.”

Bucky sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the towel off his head and dropped it by his other one. As he went to comb his hair with his fingers, Steve appeared before him with his yellow brush raised. Bucky winced slightly.

Steve lowered the brush instantly. “Oh no, I was just going to give it to you.” Steve rushed. “I won’t brush it. This would just feel better than your fingers.”

Bucky paused and before his brain could process the words, his mouth spewed them quietly. “You can. Just warn me before you start.”

“You sure?” He asked, but Bucky couldn’t ignore the way the blue eyes lit up before reining back in, like lightning struck then ceased.

_I could snap and hurt you if I feel you threaten me, which isn’t hard to do._

“Yeah.” Bucky lied, trying to shove his true feelings down. _Growing never came from comfort zones,_ he thought. He tried to remember some of his past with Steve. Steve would never hurt him or threaten him, not on purpose.

He took a deep breath as he felt Steve climb behind him. “First stroke, now.” Steve said right as the brush began brushing the tangles from the bottom of his hair. It felt good, really good. Bucky closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of being taken care of so intimately, he hadn’t experienced the feeling in this lifetime.

_Bucky was back in his old, small bedroom. Steve was behind him, both hands massaging his shoulders. He could feel the tenseness and soreness from heavy lifting at work ease out slowly under Steve’s artistic fingers._

_“This feels so good, Steviedoll.” Bucky closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of being cared for by his best friend, his love._

_Steve laughed, “Steviedoll?” He reached toward the front of his shoulders, massaging gently._

_Bucky beamed. “I like callin’ you Stevie, but I like callin’ you Doll, sandwich them together-Steviedoll.”_

Bucky blinked back the tears forming in his eyes. Partially from the throbbing pain in his head, partially from the sweetness of the memory. The ease that came between Bucky and Steve, Bucky missed it. In an overwhelming rush of feelings, he yearned for that back. It was obvious they had been in love, undeniable love. Could he even love now? Better question, could Steve love him again, love him now? It made Bucky want to be bold, to try to find out. He wanted to be the Bucky in his memories, the Bucky that Steve knew. That Bucky seemed light and carefree. The Bucky that didn’t see blood and lifeless bodies from his own hands- _hand_ he thought hastily. Moving his metal arm to place the hand of it under his thigh, he leaned his head back slightly toward Steve. Steve was still working the brush slowly through the knots that had inevitably formed after not showering for so long, then getting it wet with no product.

“This feels really good, Steviedoll.” Bucky said quietly, then immediately held his breath, waiting for Steve to respond. It was bold, _really bold, good job. What if he says nothing? Worse,_ Bucky thought, _He doesn’t remember it._ Bucky suddenly didn’t trust his own mind more than usual, didn’t trust the memory. He worried now it was just a vivid mind game rather than a real past interaction.

The brush stilled, Bucky thought it was hours before the brush started moving again. _I shouldn’t have said it, I scared him, I-_ “I did always like when you called me that.” Steve replied after what felt like eternity.

Bucky breathed out a sigh of relief, _he remembered too._ It had been real. “I remember you laughed at it.” Bucky added.

“It was funny.” And Bucky could hear the emotion thick in his voice.

He replayed Steve’s responses in his head. _Always. I always called him that?_ Instantly, he was angry, looking into his strangled brain for another memory of calling him that. He _couldn’t_ remember calling him that other than that _one_ time. He shot up and stood across from Steve who was holding the brush midair. “Bucky?” He said tentatively. Bucky nodded once in reply and leaned his back against the wall.

“When else did I call you it?”

Confusion flashed over Steve’s face. “What?”

“Steviedoll. You said you _always_ liked when I called you that, implying I did it a lot.” His tone left no room for argument, he needed an answer.

“You did.” Steve smiled slightly, the tears welling deeper into his eyes, turning from puddles to oceans. “First time was when I was massaging your shoulders,”

“Yeah, that’s the one I know.” Bucky crossed his arms, impatient.

He watched Steve blink the tears away as he continued. “There was this storm one night. Pretty bad, took the power out of our apartment. You lit a bunch of candles and tried to calm me down. I never did well with storms.” Steve rambled. “You wrapped around me, cocooned me in you for warmth pretty much, and kept calling me Steviedoll. Said it’d be alright; you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”

Bucky’s mind was blank with no recollection of the story, making him angry and defensive. “Well now I try to kill you so, guess I lied.” He snapped, his defense mechanisms coming out.

“You didn’t try to kill me, Buck. Hydra-”

“Yeah, Hydra?” He raised his eyebrows toward him. “Hydra _made_ me, Steve. I _am_ Hydra.” He spat, feeling his blood start to boil. He was mad, mad he couldn’t remember and now mad at what Hydra did to him. The word Hydra alone caused red and darkness to obscure his vision.

“What they did to you was _wrong._ You and I both know that- I _know_ you know that somewhere inside you.” Steve set the brush down elaborately, making it easy for Bucky to see and anticipate all of his moves. Bucky appreciated it, a warmth bubbling in him mixing with the anger. It confused the hell out of him. “You have every right to be angry. Your feelings are valid, Bucky.”

“I’m really angry.” Bucky said, suddenly small and childlike. “You have these memories of _me._ What do I get? _Pain_.” He shook his head, tears coming into his eyes again. “It isn’t fair! I didn’t even w _ant_ to fight!” He burst, words just coming out; he wasn’t even thinking. This was Bucky talking, pure Bucky. The repressed feelings of not wanting to fight in the war coming to the forefront, a memory of feelings he had long lost. The tears spilled down his cheeks unsolicited. “I never wanted any of this! I just wanted… I don’t know.”

“I know.” Steve said softly, getting off the bed and moving to stand in front of Bucky but giving him space. “I understand.”

Bucky couldn’t stop. “And now, now I’m alone all the time. I can’t trust myself anymore. I can’t even protect myself from myself. Fuck, I keep knives everywhere to protect myself from the air if it fucking moves wrong and startles me! My head throbs when I want to remember! I just _want_ to be _me._ ”

Steve nodded slowly. “You’re still you, Buck. You’re changed, but you’re still in there. I can see it.”

Bucky watched him. “You have to say that.”

“I don’t.” Steve said firmly. “I don’t have to help you either, but I do. I do because I know that what you did _wasn’t_ really you. I do because I care about you. I do because I know you’re still the Bucky I grew up with.”

Bucky huffed and looked down at his bare feet. “I’m not that Bucky. I don’t see myself, the world, nothing the same as I did then. From what I can remember anyway.” He crossed one foot over the other. Quietly, he added, “Every memory has you. Sometimes they get swallowed by Hydra memories or mind games. But you’re in them all.”

Steve gave him a weak smile. “We were best friends. We spent a lot of time together.” 

Bucky nodded once. “Yeah.” _“Best Friends”_ he thought.

They stood in silence, looking at one another. After the staring was enough to make Bucky look physically uncomfortable and look away, Steve spoke up. “Why don’t you try to sleep?” He moved away from the bed. “Do you want me to spend the night?”

Bucky bit his lip, his eyes now on his feet. “You can stay.”

He heard Steve shuffling. He had grabbed a glass of water from the bathroom for Bucky and set it on the side of the bed that looked slept in. When Bucky made no initiative to move or say anything, Steve said softly, “Goodnight.”

Bucky looked up to see Steve exiting the room, going to Bucky assumed the guest room the safe house had. He slowly moved toward his bed and sat down on his usual side. He still felt so alone despite knowing Steve was in the house. Ever since Steve had got there tonight, he felt vulnerable, like an exposed nerve. He wanted to trust Steve wholeheartedly, but his mind and body screamed to not trust anybody- even himself. How then could he trust Steve?

He knew there was no point in trying to sleep at this hour. The way the night went, nightmares would be inevitable. Staring up at the ceiling, the fear of drooping eyelids to show a horror film was consuming him. Bucky took a deep breath before turning onto his side, facing the empty side of the bed.

“Hey Steve?” Bucky called, his back unguarded to the door. Steve had super hearing; he would most likely hear him.

A minute or two later, Steve knocked and opened the door. “What’s up?” He sounded worried.

“I uh,” Bucky swallowed thickly, “I don’t know.” He sat up, facing Steve but not meeting his eye.

Steve had changed into a different, dryer pair of clothes and it hit Bucky that he hadn’t even _offered_ Steve a change of clothes. Steve had been on his bed, brushing his hair, had a conversation with him, all while in wet, probably uncomfortable, clothing. Bucky felt like an asshole. He was at least relieved Steve had brought some extra clothes, or maybe there was clothes in the guest room- Bucky hadn’t taken the time to explore the rest of the safehouse beyond his bedroom and living room except to hide weapons. “Glad you changed.”

Steve nodded and looked down to his now gray t-shirt and red and blue plaid pajama pants. “There’s a bunch stashed in the guest bedroom.” Steve admitted. “In case you ever wanted Sam or I to stay. Or wanted some new wardrobe.”

Bucky nodded and pursed his lips. “Sorry I didn’t offer you any dry clothes.” Apologizing gave him a sense of relief, he felt so guilty for not trying to help Steve. Steve would have never let Bucky linger around in wet clothing. “You could have gotten sick.” Bucky frowned slightly; his voice laced with a soft Brooklyn drawl. His eyes widened. Where did that come from? It was almost instinctual to call Steve out for putting himself in a situation like that.

Steve blushed, eyes slightly widened. “Oh, Buck it’s fine. I can’t get sick anymore.” Steve stepped deeper into the room. “If worse came to worse, I would’ve just asked you, but I knew they were there.”

Bucky nodded. “Stay.” He blurted, getting to the point of why he brought Steve to his room in the first place.

Blue eyes met his, swimming inside the tiredness was uncertainty. Nevertheless, Steve perked up. “Stay?”

Bucky nodded and gestured toward the empty spot in the bed. “I don’t really sleep…well.” He added well as an afterthought so Steve would maybe think Bucky slept often enough.

“I can stay.” Steve nodded and moved toward the empty spot and shifted the covers. “You,” Before he could finish his thought, Bucky had lunged himself at Steve, pulling him into the bed gently but with determination. His head instantly pressed to his chest and pulled the blankets up to protect both of them.

_Bucky’s head laid against Steve’s small chest, listening to the offbeat of Steve’s heart. “You know I love you right?” He asked in a soft whisper._

_“Of course.” Steve sighed and ran a hand through Bucky’s short hair. “It’s just hard seeing you with a dame, especially one for this long. I shouldn’t be so selfish. I know it has to be this way.”_

_“Wish it didn’t” Bucky muttered, curling himself closer into Steve, catlike in the way he laid against and next to him. “I would feel the same way.” He admitted. “It’s you, Stevie. I promise, it’s you. No dame ever comes close to you.” He looked up to meet Steve’s watery eyes. “I will never love somebody as much as I love you.” He whispered, pulling himself up to meet Steve’s soft lips._

“Hey,” Steve’s soft tone brings him from his memory. “Bucky? It’s okay, you’re safe. I promise. I’m here.” His hand slowly traced down Bucky’s back, his words comforting to his aching mind.

Bucky leaned back slightly from Steve’s muscular chest. He realized he had started crying from the memory, a few small, wet tears laid in the cotton of Steve’s t-shirt. His head pounded, causing his eyes to rattle in his skull. The sweeter the memory, the harder the pain it felt like. Yet, Steve being there kept the memories after his arrival from turning dark and miserable. “I’m good.” He reached up and wiped his eyes. “I remembered a time we were like this. Me on your chest. You played with my hair.” 

Steve nodded and bit his lip. “Your hairs soft.”

“You can uh, you can play with it, if you want?” Bucky wanted that intimacy that brought him to tears from the memory. There was a glimmer of hope that maybe the intimacy would spark another memory with the same sweetness. One of love and Steve.

Steve smiled softly and leaned back slowly against the pillows, holding Bucky still to his chest. Slowly, his fingers ran through Bucky’s hair, which was still soft despite his disheveled state. Bucky closed his eyes, the feeling light and airy inside him. He curled back into Steve.

“I’ll be here.” Steve whispered. “You can try to relax and sleep.”

Bucky nodded tiredly. “I don’t like being alone.” He whispered; his eyes still closed. “But it’s safer when I’m alone.” He murmured against Steve’s muscular body. “Can’t hurt anybody when I’m alone. Problem is,” Bucky bit his lip, pondering before continuing. “I want you to be here. I haven’t had darkness take a memory since you got here tonight. I want you to stay, but I don’t because I don’t want to hurt you.”

Steve’s hand continued to play with Bucky’s hair. “We’re going at your pace, Buck. I’ll be here tonight and stay into tomorrow. If you want me to leave then, I’ll leave. If you want me to stay, I’ll stay. It's whatever you want, whatever you're comfortable with Buck."

Bucky hummed to acknowledge Steve’s kind words but said nothing. It felt good to hear that things would be going on his pace, his terms. He hadn’t gotten to make decisions for himself in so long. He’d constantly been around people, handlers, who would pull and manipulate Bucky’s choice until nothing was left but the casing of Bucky’s thinning skin. It felt nice to know he was gaining some autonomy back. Steve was reassuring him that he would never be like his handlers, like Rumlow, like Pierce. He just hoped it wouldn’t be a trick.

His eyes closed. With Steve’s artistic fingers running through his hair, he tried to will himself to sleep against the now steady heartbeat of Steve’s warm chest.


	4. Chapter 3

Steve woke up the next morning to the gentle, quiet snores of Bucky. Bucky, who was currently curled against him like a cat, his hands twisted into the fabric of Steve’s t-shirt. He looked down at Bucky’s face, calm and beautiful in sleep, his eyelids shivering like a leaf kissed by the wind.

He doesn’t want to lose the sight before him, nor does he want to wake Bucky up. After last night, or rather early this morning, and the bags present under Bucky’s eyes during all of that, he wanted him to get as much sleep as he could. If that meant waiting until Bucky shifted enough to sneak out from underneath him, so be it.

Everything leading up to this gentle moment had been hard on Steve. Finding Bucky in the shower, rocking slightly, curled into himself, not responding to his name was terrifying to Steve. Bucky sat there, head in his knees, like a naked statue in the rain. Beautiful, yet in pain. He had been consumed with worry. Jumping into a shower of cold water to kneel in front of Bucky was nothing to him. Not when Bucky was scared. That was saying something because Steve _hates cold water._

Then Bucky had remembered calling him Steviedoll. Steve’s eyes started to water just remembering Bucky saying it then versus now. The tone was a striking contrast, it once sounded so soft and now it sounded rough, aged. Yet, Bucky was rough, aged. His eyes held so much experience and pain that Steve wished he could take some of it so maybe those blue eyes would once again reflect the ocean. Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky a little tighter now, his sleeping frame easy to gently adjust.

Bucky admitting to Steve that he felt alone had crushed him, still crushing him this morning. He didn’t want Bucky to feel that way, not when Steve was more than willing to come be at Bucky’s beck and call. He would never walk away from what they once had, even if this Bucky were so different. Steve didn’t mind the difference, the hard edges to Bucky’s looks and tones were apart of him now. He just wanted Bucky to know how much he cared, still cared.

Things had gone so wrong. This was never how their lives were supposed to go. They were supposed to be together until they eventually would have to split to marry a couple of women to appease to the societal and gender norms of the 1920s. Supposed to have kids that would grow up together just like they both had. Supposed to share stolen glances every time their wives would look away from them.

Yet, things went terribly wrong. Steve would have hated playing house with a dame, but he hated the pain and torture Bucky had endured so much more. Sure, it brought Bucky back to him and he was grateful to be given this second chance at life with his soulmate by his side, but at what cost?

Bucky got drafted, something he never wanted. He didn’t want to fight somebody else’s war, not like Steve had. Bucky got sent off and Steve followed. Saved him once yet couldn’t save him twice.

_“Bucky!” Steve called._

_He inched closer to Bucky, holding tight to his own railing. “Hang on!”_

_“Grab my hand!” Steve reached out._

_“No!”_

_The railing snapped._

_The metal railing broke off completely and Bucky fell, railing in hand, his mouth open in a scream and his eyes wide with fear._

Steve wiped the tears away from his eyes and bit his bottom lip. That image would forever be seared into the back of his eyelids. No matter how hard he tried, he would never forget the look on Bucky’s face as he just _let_ him fall.

Glancing down at the sleeping Bucky, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. If he would have reached farther, if he would have looked for Bucky then maybe he could have saved him. He could have saved him from years of brainwash, years of torture, years of murder. Steve still loved this Bucky, there would never be a version of Bucky he _wouldn’t_ love. Yet, he would always blame himself for Bucky being turned into this. He always felt guilty letting him die and now a deep part of him felt guilty for letting Bucky live a painful life.

Bucky shifted, his fingers releasing Steve’s shirt, but resting over the wrinkled pulls. Holding his breath, Steve waited until he stopped shifting and remained deadly still. His defensive, high walls were down in his sleep. All Steve could see was serenity in the hard edges of his face, calmness in the dips of his muscles underneath his t-shirt before the rest of his body disappeared under the covers.

He slid out from under Bucky, sliding his pillow under Bucky’s arms so that it would be like Steve’s body was still there. Quietly, he shuffled and got a piece of paper and a pen from the bedside table drawer.

'Buck, 

I’m in the kitchen. Going to make breakfast. I’ll bring it up to you if you don’t come down.

\- Steve'

He set the note down on the pillow and made his way to the door. Pausing, he turned and looked back at Bucky’s sleeping form. Bucky had curled himself around the pillow as if Steve hadn’t gotten up. He was afraid that after he walked through the threshold, whatever peacefulness he saw within Bucky now would be gone. He wasn’t sure what Bucky would be like when he woke up, he had never been allowed to stay around that long to find out. With a final breath, he slipped out of the bedroom and down the stairs, quiet on his feet to avoid any creeks.

He set out to making breakfast. There was a box of mix to make pancakes, blueberries still in the fridge, and about half a pack of bacon. Steve started homemade blueberry pancakes and set the bacon into a frying pan on the stove. He could tell from the amount of food still in the house that Bucky had been eating, but not nearly enough. Bucky had to have a super solider sized appetite just like himself, so he knew there were days Bucky had to feel hungry. He decided that now he would just have to make as many pancakes as the box would allow.

He cooked, humming quietly a tune of his own creation as he moved the bacon around in the pan. It spit at him, biting his wrist with a sharp heat. “Ouch.” He pulled his hand away and heard a low chuckle, causing him to jump from his skin.

“Sorry.” Bucky’s tired voice said quickly, humor laced in his voice.

“Didn’t hear you come down.” Steve looked up and scanned over Bucky’s appearance. He was still in his sleep clothes, his feet bare, his hair pulled up into a messy bun. He was leaning against the frame of the kitchen entrance. “Good morning.”

“Assumed not.” He walked over to the full coffee pot. “Morning.” He grunted and filled a mug. “Thanks.”

“You drink black coffee?”

Sitting down at the table, Bucky’s brows furrowed. Looking down at his mug then back up to Steve, “Sometimes.” He admitted, “Depends on my mood.” 

Steve nodded. “Well, I hope you’re hungry. I made blueberry pancakes and bacon.” Steve put the bacon onto two plates. “Which is weird to say now because you were watching me so I’m sure you gathered that.”

Bucky nodded and accepted the plate stacked high with his bacon and blueberry pancakes. “Thanks.” He picked up his fork as Steve sat across from him. Steve watched as Bucky practically devoured his first pancake in one bite.

“Syrup?” Steve held it toward him.

Bucky nodded, mouth full and took the syrup, drowning the pancakes in the thick liquid.

They ate in silence. It wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t tense, it was nice. Both eating everything on their plate and drinking their warm coffee. Steve couldn’t think of a better start to his day, _their_ day he hoped. He just hoped Bucky wouldn’t turn him away. Just being in Bucky’s presence gave Steve a warm feeling, just like when they were kids, despite the coldness of Bucky now.

Steve’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He went to reach for it but stopped. His fingers were a little sticky with syrup. Looking back down at his plate, at his last bite of pancake, he decided that the moment was too nice with Bucky. Pulling out his phone and deal with whatever it is the Avengers probably want from him could ruin it. He dismissed it, popping the last bite into his mouth.

“So,” Steve started, licking some syrup off his fingers before wiping them with his napkin. Setting it on the empty plate with his fork, he asked, “What do you plan on doing today?”

Bucky was focused on Steve’s fingers before tearing his eyes up to Steve’s. Syrup stuck to his stubbly chin. “Are you staying?”

“Do you want me to stay?” Steve couldn’t mask the hope in his voice, causing him to internally grimace.

Bucky took a shallow breath, biting the bottom of his lip. “Kind of… Yeah. If you want.” He shoved his last bite of bacon into his mouth.

Steve felt bubbly inside as he responded, “Then I’ll stay.”

Nodding once, Bucky wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I’ll probably sit on the deck. It’s nice out.” He looked out the window next to the table. “Probably reach into the darkness of my head for a memory or two if I can.”

Steve nodded. “I can sit with you. Maybe sketch while you do that.” He turned his gaze to the trees beyond the window. “It’s a beautiful landscape here.” He turned his head back toward Bucky.

Bucky’s cheeks tinted a light shade of pink and Steve could feel himself melt. He hadn’t seen Bucky blush since before the ice. It was heartwarming, it was stunning, the most beautiful sight. All he wanted to do was sketch him.

Bucky turned back to look at Steve, but his eyes didn’t quite meet him. “Sketch me?” Bucky asked, something in his voice slightly teasing. Steve immediately choked on his own breath, reaching for his coffee. For a second, he thought he might have said his own thought aloud. Then, Bucky chuckled. “I know you have and still do.”

“You, you do?” Steve asked between his sips of coffee, his whole face and neck red. Steve imagined if he looked down his shirt, his chest would be on fire.

“Yeah.” Bucky rubbed at his neck with his flesh hand, “I stole a sketchbook from you one of the days you were here. I… I can’t remember which day. I looked through it trying to see if it would help me.”

_That’s where that sketchbook went!_ He had noticed a sketchbook went missing a couple of weeks ago and had searched his whole floor looking for it. Even cleaned out his car wondering if it somehow fell between the seats. He had given up on it, especially after Sam swore on his life that he hadn’t stolen it from Steve to mess with him.

Steve blinked back into the present. “Did it help you?” He asked, realizing he had just been staring at Bucky.

“You aren’t mad I stole it?” Bucky asked. The tone reminding Steve a lot of a child who was caught and scared. It made Steve frown; he didn't want Bucky to feel that way. He didn't want Bucky to worry that Steve would reprimand him.

Steve shook his head, waving his hand slightly. “I have a lot of sketchbooks.” He shrugged, “I didn’t even know it went missing.” He lied.

Bucky gave Steve a puzzled look. “Yeah. So, you did. Wow, Rogers. Terrible at lying I see.” He smirked and ran his metal finger across the edge of the table. “It did help a little bit. To see me, me before, you know.” He shoved his metal hand underneath his thigh causing Steve’s heart to crack. For a split second, he felt like asking Bucky why he shoved it underneath his thigh. Except, he didn’t want to ruin their good morning. He also thinks he knows the answer and definitely doesn’t want to hear it come sadly, or angrily, dripping from Bucky’s lips.

Before he could say more, Bucky rose from his chair and grabbed both their plates. Rinsing and setting them into the sink, he took a deep breath. “I’m going to get more coffee.” He said definitively. “Then my journal. Then I’m going to the deck.” He nodded with each phrase he said.

Steve nodded and got up. Before he could respond, Bucky quickly added. “I would like you to come, yes.” Steve only could nod again in return.

\--

After both of them got their coffee and designated supplies, they went out to the deck. The deck wrapped around the whole house, dark oak wood to match the trim. It was covered with a nice awning. The deck was filled with gray rattan furniture with cool colored green cushions. There were fairy lights wrapped around the different support pillars that Sam had done to “match the aesthetic” of a house in the woods. Steve didn’t feel this safe house reflected Sam at all, but maybe Sam had a soft spot for the woods.

As they both sat in their own rattan deck chair, Steve took a moment to look out at the woods before them. All tall trees and green leaves. It was stunning, the way the sun shone through the trees onto the house on which they sat. The only sounds to be heard were birds chirping and squirrels running through the tree branches. In the distance, only to a super soldier’s ear, could the sound of a creek flowing be heard.

“I love it here.” Bucky said quietly as if to not disturb the peace. “Being outside. I just… I feel grounded here. Apart of something bigger.” He leaned back in his chair.

Steve pulled his eyes from the landscape, turning his head to face Bucky. Bucky was so focused on looking out. Steve picked up his sketchbook. “Are you sure I can sketch you?” A blush crept over his cheeks as he asked. He didn’t want to cross a line with Bucky unintentionally. He would get his confirmation before he did anything.

Bucky nodded, turning his head slightly toward Steve. “Can I keep it after?” Now it was Bucky’s turn to blush, shyness creeping over all of his stunning features.

Steve smiled and put his charcoal pencil to paper. “Of course, Buck.” He replied softly, beginning to sketch the outline of Bucky’s beautiful jawline.

They sat like that for a while. In a calm silence with only the shaking leaves and bugs humming to fill the space between them. Bucky’s face never shifted from staring out, but his eyes darted around like a pinball trapped in a machine. He was constantly taking in the beauty of the nature around him, calculating it for signs of attack or change from something unnatural. Steve could tell, it was something Steve would do. Except, only on a mission, not in a peaceful moment.

Steve missed the days that Bucky couldn’t stay still but because it was Steve. Bucky always wanting to grab at his hands to get Steve’s attention when he was trying to peacefully sketch.

_Bucky’s hand darted out from its resting place on his knee, reaching for Steve’s pencil._

_“Bucky!” He groaned and jerked his hand and old, worn sketchbook back. He was careful not to draw a line down the center of the art. “Can’t you be still?”_

_Bucky made a questioning face, pursing his lip and widening his eyes. “Nope!” He popped the ‘p’. “You see, you’re cute. It’s distracting me.” He shrugged innocently, waving his hand._

_“That excuse is starting to wear thin.” Steve eased back into his sketching position, sketchbook resting against his knees. “_ Real _thin.” He tried to sound serious, but the twitch of his lip gave him away._

_“Uh huh, keep tellin’ yourself that, Steviedoll.” He eased back into his pose, his left hand supporting his chin, his right hand placed over his knee. “Maybe one day,” He smirked, a warning to Steve that he was going to really mess with him. “I’ll pose for you_ real _nice.”_

_Steve choked on his own saliva. “Buck,” He started, his face heating up and burning him from the inside out. “Shut up.”_

_“You goin’ to make me? ‘Cause if not, I’m not.” He wiggled into a more comfortable position. “Wouldn’t even cover everything. Maybe not even cover anything.”_

_“Bucky!”_

_Bucky sent him a toothy, dazzling smile; his eyelids drooped slightly. “Here.” He unhooked the three top buttons on his worn dress shirt. “Now continue.”_

Steve looked down at the forming sketch of Bucky’s face and blinked away the vision of the one from his memory. From the one he remembered and this one, he started them both the same. The sharpness of Bucky’s profile was unchanged, muscle memory taking over in the beginning phases of sketching Bucky’s face. It may have been rougher around the edges, but visually unchanged. Well, visibly unchanged to anybody _but_ Steve. Steve couldn’t help but to admire that Bucky’s natural beauty had lasted forever. Carefully sketching the tip of his nose, he sighed contently. Sketching and being with Bucky felt like the most natural thing in the world. This was all he wanted in life, both back then and now.

Bucky looked over, the first time he was breaking the pose. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Steve looked up confused, lowering his sketchbook slightly. “I just, I like this. A lot.”

Bucky let a small curve of his lip twitch before trying to put it away. “I do too.” He admitted quietly. “It’s the first time I haven’t wanted to strangle somebody for watching me.”

“Oh.” Steve blinked. He hadn’t even thought about that, staring at Bucky to sketch him. Bucky had been under watch for seventy years and Steve didn’t even think to ask Bucky if the watching part of sketching him was going to be okay. “I hadn’t even thought of that.” Steve admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“I said it was fine.” Bucky shrugged. “You don’t watch me with eyes that want to rip me apart.” Steve frowned and Bucky rolled his eyes. “Relax, it’s fine. Them watching me was the least of my worries with them.”

Steve’s frown grew as he rested the top of his pencil on the sketchbook. “You didn’t deserve any of that.” He said quietly. He didn’t want to point out specific, gruesome details he knew from reading Bucky’s file. “Anything that happened to you.”

Bucky looked at him, eyes confused. “Not many people would deserve that.” He said slowly, as if reminding Steve that he knew it shouldn’t have happened to him either. “But… thanks.” He looked back out at the trees, resuming his pose. “You know,” He started but stopped.

Steve started to sketch again, working on Bucky’s hair. “What?” He gently prodded. He wasn’t going to force Bucky to speak, but if Bucky would give any kind of insight into himself, Steve would take it greedily. He wanted to hear what Bucky had to say always, even if it was bad.

Bucky moved his head from side to side. “The soldier side of me,” He started. “It’s not really a switch. Like I don’t just wake up and become the soldier. You know what I mean?”

Steve didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t know what Bucky meant. His file didn’t say anything about how he became the Winter Solider each time he committed a crime, it was just something he _was_ to the file. Steve knew that wasn’t the case. The Winter Solider lived inside Bucky, not Bucky inside the Winter Solider. Even with that thought, he began to wonder what brought that side of Bucky out. “I don’t.” He finally admitted. If Bucky was going to tell him, he wasn’t going to stop him.

“It’s a set of words.” He bit his lip. “That you don’t know. It’s Russian.” He shrugged a shoulder before continuing, “I just felt maybe I should tell you.” He admitted. “I sometimes wake up angry, or just get angry. I don’t want you to think it’s… the Solider.” He said weakly. “It’s me. Unless I hear those words, it’ll be me.” He moved some hair from his face. Suddenly, he laughed bitterly. “Not sure which is worse sometimes.”

“The soldier would be.” Steve said quickly. “No matter how angry you get, you aren’t the soldier and that’s what matters. It’ll always be you.”

“But I’m broken.” Bucky quickly retorted,

“Not broken.” Steve replied just as quick. “Hurt. Not broken. Those are two different things, Bucky.”

Bucky pursed his lips but said nothing. He took a deep breath and let his eyes follow a squirrel running through the grass and then up a tree. “After I pulled you from the lake, I hid out in those woods for a while.”

Steve immediately leaned back, eyes widening. “You did?” He couldn’t hide the shock in his voice. Instantly, he regretted not scanning the woods after he got out of the hospital. He could’ve found Bucky sooner. Maybe Bucky had wanted to be found! He could have saved him sooner. He could have-

“Yeah.” He smiled mischievously, clearly proud of himself. “I didn’t know much. After you said _that_ phrase, I was in a weird in between state. I sat and stared at my hands for a while trying to remember my name. I remembered a little bit about you and then your name.” He stretched his arms out in front of him. “I knew nobody would look there. Everybody thinks I’m a ghost or something, so they would think I fled instantly.” He turned his head to Steve and like a child, he asked, “Want to know a secret?”

Steve nodded, unable to speak. He was too surprised at the new information. He was too surprised Bucky wanted to share so much. He was too surprised that Bucky hadn’t hid immediately that day.

“I hid in plain sight often. Everybody thought they had me figured out. That I’d hide out elaborately. I had to prove them wrong, make them wish they never assumed anything about me.”

Steve’s jaw slipped open. “Wow.” He was dumbfounded.

He nodded. “Then I would make a plan. Like, when you found me in the apartment, which I hadn’t planned to be found by _you,_ but,” He waved his metal hand. “I had planned my way there because it was a place I hadn’t been to in so long. Enough time passed where I wasn’t plastered in the newsstand. Nobody would suspect me there, so I went.”

“You’ve always been a genius.” Steve breathed out, not even thinking. He knew growing up that Bucky was smart, a strategist really. He liked to live spontaneously, but he would _always_ have a sense of control over the situation that Steve envied.

Bucky shrugged. “Survival instincts really.” He bit his lip. “But thank you.” He looked down at his hands, flexing the fingers.

Steve didn’t want to lose the easiness that was coming with the conversation, but he didn’t want to overstep accidently and completely shut Bucky down. He wanted to know more, so much more. He wanted to know the good, the bad, and the ugly. Except, Bucky seemed to be okay right now, Steve didn’t want to ask him something dark and bring anger into Bucky’s view. Pondering on what to ask Bucky, he finally asked, “What’s been your favorite snack?”

Bucky bit back a laugh, his face scrunching to hold it in. “You plan on bringing me a snack, Rogers?” He teased.

Steve laughed and shook his head. “Just curious.”

“When I remember to eat, crackers. I put hot sauce on them.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Of course, you do.”

“What’s that mean?” Bucky quipped, eyebrow raised and a smirk teasing his lips.

“When we were kids,” Steve started but stopped, reading Bucky’s face. It shifted from playfulness into frustration. Nevertheless, he nodded for Steve to continue. “Your Ma sent you to the market with me. She wanted some peppers and other fixin’s for a stew. There were these really spicy peppers and you grabbed one. They were cheap so it didn’t break the budget you had. We got home and,” He laughed slightly remembering what came next. “And your Ma started cutting it up and yelled for you to get your ass to her. The kitchen _smelled_ spicy because the pepper was _that_ hot. She was shocked you would buy such a thing. She said she would put a little bit in the stew, but no way would she use it all. Here you are, Mr. Badass, reaching for a piece and just pop it straight into your mouth.” Steve was laughing at this point. Bucky was amused. “Your face was so red, and you swallowed it, sweating. You just shrug, tell us it ‘wasn’t that hot’. Then you rubbed sweat from your face and got pepper in your eye and definitely ‘did not’ cry.”

Bucky was laughing, shaking his head. “It probably wasn’t hot.” After the laughs subsided, his mood shifted. A dark cloud coming and taking away the sunshine that had come into Bucky’s beautiful eyes. “I don’t remember my mom.” He said quietly.

Steve bit his lip. “She was fantastic.”

“I’m sure.” Bucky looked down, his fingers picking at the hem of his shirt.

“Who all do you remember?” Steve asked gently. Partially because he wanted to know, partially because he wanted to know so he could warn Bucky of a story that he may tell with people he may not remember. He didn’t want to give Bucky something that would hurt him unintentionally if he wasn’t ready.

“You.” He admitted honestly. “Becca.” He took in a breath. “Couple handlers. Their voices, barely their faces.”

Steve nodded but Bucky stopped him before he could say more, as if he had been reading Steve’s mind. “Don’t try to hold back on me. I’m not fragile, I can handle your story that involved my Ma. Honestly, Steve, I was in it and I don’t even remember it. You could have made up the whole thing, makes no difference to me.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not…mad. Now I know I bought a spicy pepper and ate it like a badass.” He looked at Steve. “I appreciate hearing it. Even if it does hurt.”

“Okay.” Steve said, his eyes scanning Bucky’s face.

\--

They sat around for an hour or so more in comfortable silence. Steve’s sketching of pencil to paper being the only added sound to natures music that surrounded them. Bucky had resumed his pose for Steve to finish the sketch of him. Bucky’s eyes would droop every once in a while, but he always fought them back open.

Steve was entranced in his sketching when Bucky shot up, sitting straight. He looked startled as he took in a deep gulp of air.

Steve’s head shot up. “You alright?” He asked quickly, lowering his almost complete sketch of Bucky.

Bucky nodded a little frantically. “Just,” He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut quickly then popping them back open. “Had a memory. Kind of twisted one.” He rubbed at his ear, looked to his clean flesh hand, and sighed. “I’m fine.” He leaned back into his chair slowly. “It was you and me. You were doing dishes and I was drying them. But every time you talked, I would reach out and grab you and-” He shook his head again, as if to rid the memory completely from his tortured brain. “Sometimes they just twist together, the soldier and me. Our memories are one in the same yet so different.” He released a breath and looked down at the sketch. His eyes softened from their hectic fog. “It looks good.” He said softly, awe replacing the fear in his tone.

Caught off guard by the shift, Steve lamely responded, “Thanks.” He looked down to it, then back up to Bucky. That had been a lot to take in all at once only for Bucky to completely change course from it at the end. It was clear in Bucky’s face that he was eagerly trying to bring the attention to the sketch and away from him. Steve went with it. “It’s almost finished.” Reluctantly starting to sketch again, Bucky tried to resume the same position he was in before his memory. “Perfect.” Steve whispered, sketching around Bucky’s eyes.

“My favorite was the sun and moon me, from your sketchbook I stole.” He admitted sheepishly. “I liked the way my metal hand looked gentle.”

Steve smiled softly, continuing to sketch. “Your metal hand is gentle.” He whispered.

Bucky scoffed, shaking his head lightly. “It’s murdered people, Steve.”

“The Winter Soldier did.”

“It- _I_ am the Winter Soldier.”

Steve looked up and quirked a brow. “Didn’t you say they twist together, the soldier and you? Doesn’t that mean it’s two different people.”

Bucky looked over; mouth open to speak then closes it. “Alright, whatever. Punk.” He muttered the last word, biting down on his bottom lip.

Steve resumed his sketch but paused when his phone started buzzing in his back pocket. Nobody calls him unless they really need him. “Sorry, hold on.” He took his phone out and swiped to accept. “Hello?”

“Hey, you know I wouldn’t call if it wasn’t urgent.” Sam’s voice came through clear, worry lacing his usually calm tone.

His brows furrowed. “Do I need to come to the tower?” Steve asked.

Steve could hear the distant mumbling of people in the background. “You get a text?” Sam asked. In a hushed tone he added, “From Sharon.” Pausing, he added just as hushed, “She’s worried, you never replied.”

Steve frowned, looking up at Bucky and locking eyes with his misty blue ones. Bucky quickly looked away, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

That must have been the message vibration he felt at breakfast. Why would Sharon be texting him though, her of all people? She wouldn’t have needed to reach him unless- _oh._ He knew there was only one reason Sharon would have texted him out of nowhere _._ He took a deep breath, sorrow realization filling him. He quickly tried to right himself. He didn’t want to start getting teary eyed and potentially worry Bucky. He bit his lip, willing the emotion away.

“Hello?” Sam’s voice was eager, worried.

He knew Sam was making sure he was safe. Not from Bucky, well maybe from Bucky too, but mostly if he was safe from himself. Why else would Steve not have come back, not have answered such an important message? The thought angered him slightly, but he knew Sam was doing it from a place of care. Steve took another breath, trying to keep his voice neutral to Sam, neutral to Bucky’s ears too.

“Yeah. Here. Sorry. I hadn’t seen it.” His voice hitched slightly. “I’m on my way.”

Sam paused before replying. “See you then, Cap.”

“Bye.” Steve hung up and slid his phone into his back pocket. He didn’t even bother pulling up Sharon’s message. “Sorry.” He said to Bucky, moving to stand up.

Bucky looked up at him, concern seeping from his features. “Everything okay?”

“Just have a mission. I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

Bucky nodded. He must have realized Steve didn’t want to talk about it. Instead of pushing, he asked, “I can still keep the sketch, right?”

“Of course. I can finish it when I get back.”

Bucky studied it, then quirked a brow. “It looks done to me.”

Steve looked down at it and shrugged his agreement. It was done, done enough. He knew he was never going to be able to capture all of Bucky’s beauty no matter how hard he tried. That was why there was sketch after sketch of only him in various ways, various themes. Someday, he hoped, he would be able to capture it all.

“So,” Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck. “When uh, not that I was eavesdropping.” His eyes wouldn’t meet Steve’s. “But when can I see you again.”

Steve’s heart, while breaking from the loss of Peggy, melted at Bucky’s words. The day had been full of progress. He wished it didn’t have to end with the circumstances it was. He wished Peggy didn’t pass.

As Steve pulled the sketch from the book carefully, he replied, “As soon as I come back. I’ll come straight here if you want me to.” He handed the sketch to Bucky.

Bucky nodded and ran his metal thumb over the edge of the paper. “If I… let’s say,” He groaned in frustration. “If I text you, will you answer?” He rushed, the words forcing themselves out.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. If I don’t, know that I will. I could get busy, but never too busy for you.” He hoped Bucky would believe this was a mission and not a funeral. He didn’t want to tell him about Peggy. He wasn’t sure if Bucky even remembered Peggy. He just couldn’t start that conversation, not now, not yet.

Steve froze and bit his tongue when he realized what he said. He had been doing _so_ _well_ to not be too forward with Bucky and there it was. Steve was going to scare Bucky, push him away right before he left. His mind was in too many places at once and he let himself come off too strong.

Then, much to Steve’s surprise, Bucky hugged him. A quick hug, arms quickly latched around his slim waist and then returned back to the sides of their owner. The quick warmth that Steve felt from Bucky’s body flooded him, cocooning his insides like Bucky had so many times before the war. It was comforting, just what Steve needed.

With a blushing face, Bucky bit his lip. “You uh, you should probably not keep them waiting.”

Steve nodded and smiled slightly at him. “I’ll see you when I get back.”

As Steve started walking to his car, he heard the front door open to the safehouse. He couldn’t believe how the day went. Things had been going so well. Bucky and him were making _so much_ progress. Now he felt numb. Peggy was _gone._ It didn’t feel real. None of this did. Not Bucky being alive, not Peggy being dead. Nothing.

As he started his car, he quickly rubbed his hands down his face. He knew he was collected enough to drive, but all he wanted was to curl up and be alone to mourn. This was a shock to his whole system, zapping the life and good spirit out of him. Bucky hugging him was a shock too. Everything was piling up, becoming too much. Steve needed to get back to the tower, to his floor.

As he started backing out of the driveway, he looked up and saw Bucky standing on the porch. He was waving goodbye to Steve with his flesh hand. His metal hand was holding up an old picture frame from a wall of the safe house. Instead of a random stock photo, the frame held the sketched picture of Bucky. Bucky was smiling soft as Steve smiled at him through the windshield. “See you soon, Buck.” Steve said quietly to himself, his eyes welling with tears. 


	5. Chapter 4

“London sure is beautiful.” Sam nudged Steve’s shoulder lightly. “Be a lot more beautiful if you paid attention to me.” He joked.

Blushing, Steve slid his phone into his pocket before he could send a text to Bucky telling him the service was over. “Sorry.” He shook his head. He was grateful for Sam’s little jokes; it made the weight of the day a little lighter.

They were sitting at the bar that was next to the hotel they were staying at for the funeral. It was a nice, open space with people coming in and out. Steve looked around at everyone. His mind lingered on both Peggy and Bucky.

“You tell him that your mission was a funeral?” Sam sipped at his drink.

He hadn’t told Bucky why he went to London, just that it was for work. He felt like that may have discredited the funeral, but he just did not want to have that conversation with Bucky. Maybe when he got back, he would tell him. Maybe Bucky would hug him again, this time longer, consoling Steve. He knew Bucky hadn’t been the _biggest_ fan of Peggy, but he still always respected the hell out of her.

_“She keeps lookin’ at you like you’re some man made of stone.” Bucky grumbled as he got into his tent, Steve following. “I mean sure you are_ now _, but.” He waved his hand as he loosened the buttons on his jacket._

_Steve rolled his eyes. “You know it’s you, right? Always has been.” Steve walked over to Bucky, wrapping one arm around his waist._

_“The dynamic of us ain’t the same now. Don’t like it.” He grumbled on, giving Steve the most adorable puppy eyes. “Now you’re this this super soldier and suddenly everyone wants you.”_

_"Used to only be you.” Steve placed a kiss on Bucky’s forehead._

_“Still is only me.” Bucky shot back, looking up into Steve’s icy blue eyes. “They aren’t looking at the parts of you that matter most.”_

_Steve smiled softly. “Thanks, Buck. But you can’t keep shooting her daggers. She’s helping us.”_

_Bucky raised his eyebrows. “She flirts with you_ in front _of me.”_

_Steve Shrugged. “She doesn’t know I’m unavailable.”_

_Bucky smirked, placing one hand onto Steve’s chest. “Could show her?”_

_"You’re somethin’ else Barnes.” Steve pulled him closer to his now chiseled torso._

_Bucky cuddled into his chest, sighing, content._

“Not exactly.” Steve replied to Sam, pulling himself from his memory.

Sam nodded his understanding. “How are you doing?”

“She’s in a better place.” Steve admitted with a frown. “Just hurts to know she’s gone. Really gone.”

The funeral had been beautiful. Flowers and loved ones all gathered for Peggy. Everybody had come together to celebrate her, the incredible woman that she was and all that she had influenced. Steve was honored to be able to help carry her casket, even if it overfilled him with emotions. Peggy had meant so much to him, still did when he came out of the ice. To know she was gone after feeling like he was just getting her back into his new, weird life, it hurt. A lot.

"I’m sorry, man.” He squeezed Steve’s shoulder. Looking up, he added, “I’ll give you two a minute.” He motioned his head toward Sharon and got up.

Sharon walked over, her long black coat swaying around her. “Hey.” She smiled softly.

“Hey.” Steve sat up a little straighter, setting his glass down in front of him.

“Thank you for everything you did. Both when she was here and what you did at her funeral.” She gave him a sincere smile. “It would mean the world to her.”

Steve nodded, a sad smile forming on his lips. “Truth be told, I would do anything for Peggy. Coming to her funeral is probably the hardest thing though.” He shook his head. “Never thought I would see this day.”

Sharon nodded. “She was incredible. You would have thought she’d live forever.” She smiled and glanced down at the empty seat by Steve. “I was actually about to head back to the hotel.”

Steve slid from his stool. “I’ll walk with you.” He laid a tip on the bar underneath his glass.

As they got to the hotel and started walking toward the back to the elevators, they talked about Peggy and her legacy. Her life and how incredible and strong of a woman she had been and would forever be. Sharon told stories of things Peggy did for her that made her the “cool” Aunt.

“Aunt Peggy, she bought me my first thigh holster.” Sharon beamed.

Steve chuckled. “Very practical.”

“And stylish.” She pressed the button to the elevator then turned, facing Steve.

“CIA has you stationed over here now?” He asked.

“In Berlin, Joint Terrorism Task Force.”

Steve nodded and gave her a small smile. “Right. Right. Sounds fun.”

Sharon went to respond but was interrupted by Sam’s voice.

"Steve,” He looked up, eyes locking with Sam’s. “There’s something you gotta see.”

“What is it?” He asked, not liking the edge that had been in Sam’s voice.

Sam took a deep breath. “On the TV-”

“Come.” Sharon stepped into the now arrived elevator. “I have a TV in my room."

The ride up in the elevator was tense. Steve could feel the worry pouring off of Sam. In turn, worrying Steve. It was something he couldn’t say out loud in front of Sharon, or he would have already said it. Steve knew that. He would just have to see it for himself on the TV. He frowned, unsure of what could be going on.

Getting to Sharon’s room and walking in, Sam wasted no time turning on the news.

_“A bomb hidden in a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna.”_

Steve’s jaw clenched, worry instantly flooding him. He knew Natasha was there for an event. He hadn’t heard from her since she told him she got there. Steve was like a dad, wanting to make sure all of his children arrived at their destinations safely. The fact that a bomb ripped through the building she was at and nobody told him, nobody knows if Natasha is safe, scared him to his core. Sam couldn’t say this in the elevator. That meant she could be seriously hurt; she could be d-

_"More than 70 people have been injured. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda's King T'Chaka.”_

Steve’s eyed widened at the broadcast. His thoughts quickly going silent. This was bad, _really_ bad.

“ _Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”_

With his eyes widening to the size of saucers, Steve’s blood ran cold. He stood rigid, his eyes not drifting even an inch from the screen. On the TV was a picture none other than Bucky. _His Bucky_. His Bucky who was _supposed_ to be at a safe house in New York. His Bucky who he _thought_ was making so much progress and growth away from this. Now here he was, plastered on the television after an _attack_ on the United Nations, _killing_ Wakanda’s king.

“I have to go to work.” Sharon said, standing behind them with her arms crossed.

“Give us a minute and we’ll come with you.” Sam said.

Sharon nodded. “I’ll get the car.” She grabbed her still packed bags and left the room.

Waiting to make sure she wasn’t coming back, Sam moved to stand by Steve. “Steve.”

Steve already had his phone out, texting Bucky the fastest he ever texted before. “I’m calling him.”

Sam nodded, silent, his jaw tense. He watched as Steve called and hung up on the automatic voicemail. “Fuck!” Steve pressed Bucky’s contact and called again.

“Steve...” Sam said quietly, his head shaking.

“He couldn’t have done this!” Steve snapped, his fingers moving fast along the small phone screen crafting another text to Bucky. “There’s no way. How would he get there?” He looked up from his phone to Sam. He knew there was only one way he could have gotten to Vienna and done this- Hydra found him. Steve refused to believe that, he _could not_ believe that. “Call him. See if he answers.” He looked at Sam, his eyes dripping with plea.

“He won’t-”

“Please!” Steve snapped, listening to the ringing for Bucky to answer once more. “Sorry.” He muttered hanging up on the voicemail.

Steve was scared. Terrified. Worried- all for Bucky. They had pictures- _proof_ \- that that was Bucky who planted the bomb. Bucky couldn’t have done this. Steve knew that- Steve _thought_ he knew that. Nothing made sense anymore. His mind was racing. Bucky was in New York; he had been texting Steve. Joking with him about his picture of a tree he sent Bucky with the caption ‘Cool leaves, right?’. Yet, there was a picture of Bucky by a van in Vienna flashing on the TV screen. He looked like nothing but the infamous Winter Solider as he tried to hide in broad daylight. How could he be in two places at once?

Steve’s heart jumped into his throat. What if he had told Steve he would text him to cover for the fact he was planning this? Steve immediately pushed the thought away, guilt consuming him for even thinking that. They had been making progress, Bucky couldn’t have been faking that. Steve groaned, wondering if he should just start ripping his hair out. He didn’t know what to believe anymore.

“No answer.” Sam looked at Steve’s distressed face. “Tried twice.”

“How would he have even gotten to Vienna?” Steve looked at Sam with wide, scared eyes. “There’s no way he did this. None. No way.” Steve shook his head, jaw clenching.

“Steve, I don’t want to believe it either, believe me. But,” He pointed toward the TV. “They have _pictures_!”

“Could be anybody.”

“It looks a hell of a lot like our somebody though.” Sam gave him a look that made Steve’s whole body stand on edge. He knew Sam wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t want him to be right. “They’re going to start looking for him, asking questions.”

Steve stayed silent. He couldn’t handle this right now. He just lost one of his best friends, somebody who helped him so much after he got the serum and into this new society even. Somebody who pushed him to be a better man. Now the man he was a better man for potentially blew up the United Nations.

“Steve we are harboring a fugitive!” Sam pulled him back to the present. “That is, if he’s even still there.” Sam added bitterly.

“We aren’t harboring the Winter Soldier.” Steve all but seethed. “We’re harboring Bucky-”

“He isn’t _your_ Bucky anymore! He isn’t the kid from Brooklyn you remember! He _is_ the Winter Soldier. One in the same. This man has been Hydra’s for seventy years and he just committed an attack that looks a lot like Hydra! What do you not see? This is a problem Steve.” Sam rubbed his hands over his face. “A huge fucking problem.”

Steve’s jaw dropped, his fists clenching. He knew Sam wasn’t saying anything to intentionally hurt him. Sam just wanted Steve to see the situation for what it was. Steve knew his mind was skewed toward Bucky and Bucky being innocent. But Sam was right, Bucky _wasn’t_ the same. Bucky _was_ capable of something like this now. He never would have been when they were kids, but times were drastically different now. Yet, Steve still didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to believe when he read the file that people tortured Bucky and he still didn’t want to believe it now. Even when there was picture proof on the TV, and Bucky told him stories, he didn’t want to believe any of it. He just could not find it in himself to believe Bucky was anything _but_ Bucky. That Bucky was damaged all because Steve let him fall and didn’t even try to rescue him.

That was why he wanted to bring Bucky in and help him. Rescue him from the torture give him life again. Bucky being in the safe house was doing that! Steve had been seeing the progress from Bucky that Sam hadn’t been seeing. He had heard Bucky slowly opening up to him, allowing Steve to be in his space both physically and in a way mentally. “How can you believe he would do this?” The words slipped from Steve’s mouth, his soft voice full of hurt and frustration.

“I don’t want to believe it, Steve. There’s picture proof _making_ me believe it.” Sam frowned, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t see him through rose tinted glasses like you do. You have to look at it from a realistic standpoint. I wouldn’t believe it, but,” He gestured to the TV, allowing the headline to finish his sentence for him. “He isn’t answering us. There’s nothing else we can do. They’ll think we were involved if we look for him again while they’re hunting for him too.”

Steve shook his head, still beating himself up for even allowing himself to think Bucky could have done this. Glancing back up at the TV, at the picture of _Bucky_ , he grabbed the remote and turned it off. “C’mon.” He started walking out of Sharon’s hotel room. “We have to get to Berlin.”

\---

As they got to Sharon’s stationed area in Berlin, some of the other Avengers were arriving too. Steve’s mind was going at record speed. He checked his phone one more time to see if there was a message from Bucky. There was nothing.

As time ticked on, the more Steve was kicking himself for even considering believing Bucky did this. The logistics just weren’t there. Steve was twisting media with reality. The media didn’t know what Steve knew, didn’t know where Bucky had been. They thought he had been with Hydra, but really, he had been safe. But the media had a picture of Bucky from the now. They _actually_ _knew_ where he had been in the last twenty-four hours. Unlike Steve.

Steve was worried that somehow, Hydra really did find him in that safehouse, took him back, cue the Vienna bombing. But why? Why did they need Bucky to do it? It wasn’t like it was an assassination, which seemed to be the soldier’s big specialty. Yet again, he was Hydra’s biggest weapon. Of course this would be Bucky’s job. He committed terrorism; the form didn’t matter.

Steve inwardly cursed. Bucky had _not_ committed terrorism, Hydra and their use of Winter Soldier had.

Steve’s head was ready to pop. His thoughts of Bucky doing this and it also being impossible going back and forth in his mind like a ping pong ball.

“Cap!” Tony sat up straighter in his chair. Natasha was sitting next to him at the center table.

“Tony.” He took a deep breath and sat down across from them. “You okay?” His eyes travelled over Natasha. She didn’t look hurt.

“Yeah.” She said, “Got Lucky.”

Steve nodded and looked up at the monitor that was showing the footage of the bombing. “What do we know?”

“Well,” Natasha started and looked up at the monitor as well.

“We know as much as the news does.” Tony interjected. “Figures something this big was committed by the ghost that is Barnes. Who, for the icing on the cake, was on no other security footage within the premises. Planted the bomb and then-” He clapped his hands together. “Poof!”

Sam, with a slight roll of the eyes, nodded his head in acknowledgement.

Steve tried to remain transparent. He knew he needed to remain calm, act like everything was fine. He couldn’t let them know he knew where Bucky was, or had been before this. “How do we know it was Bu-Barnes?”

“Not sure how you missed the face of your past battlefield buddy up on the TV, but I can show you?” Tony gave Steve a beyond confused look and reached for his cell phone.

“He saw.” Sam said, quickly jumping to Steve’s defensive. “Just in shock. This was his best friend.”

“Yeah, hard emphasis on _was_.” Tony looked back to Natasha. “You sure you’re okay? Had a nice blast about an hour ago.”

She nodded. “Nothing a couple band aids couldn’t fix.” She turned her attention to Steve. “Steve, I know this is hard, but we have to look for him. Probably for the best without you helping.

Steve’s jaw clenched. “That isn’t an option.”

Before Natasha could respond, Sharon walked in, file in her hand. “We’re going to be looking for him too. They’re pushing for a kill on sight.”

Every hair on Steve’s body stood on end. They couldn’t kill him; he didn’t do anything wrong. Innocent until proven guilty. A grainy, barely able to tell if it’s Bucky photo of Bucky could not be the reason.

If Bucky did this, somebody found him and said the words to turn him into their Soldier. No other explanation for it. There was no reason for him to just do this on his own. Steve knew that. Steve so badly wanted to believe that. The ping pong ball was now flying across his skull. “Then Avengers need to find him first.”

“Steve-” Natasha started.

Sharon set the file down, cutting Natasha off. “Winter Soldier’s file. He hasn’t been on anybody’s radar in about a year. People thought Hydra put him away after what happened with you two.” She looked at Sam and Steve.

A man walked into the room in a gray suit with a dark blue tie. His graying hair parted neatly. “This,” Sharon started. “Is Everett Ross. The Deputy Task Force Commander.”

“What’s going to happen to him?” Steve asked, getting straight to the point. Standing from his seat to shake the man’s hand. Even if he could tell this wasn’t going to be a great relationship, he still needed to be polite.

Everett shook it and went to stand beside Sharon. “If we find him, a psychological evaluation and then extradition. But, if he puts up a fight, kill on sight will implemented.”

“Will he get a lawyer?”

Everett laughed. “Funny.”

Steve shook his head, his hand rubbing against his chin. That wasn’t funny, that was proof. Proof that if they brought Bucky in, they wouldn’t be fair to him in the slightest. He would go straight to prison, a holding cell made for his strength, and he would never see the light of day again. Steve couldn’t let that happen. Not when Bucky was innocent of his crimes. Everything committed, including this, was under Hydra. Sure, Bucky fell under Hydra in the government’s eyes, but if they listened to Bucky, they would know it was by force. He was a prisoner of war, not a Hydra ally.

Everett looked at them. “Will there be any problems in having the Avengers help assist in the search of Mr. Barnes?”

Steve was ready to lunge at the man. The audacity to call him “Mr. Barnes” when he was damn well referring to the Winter Soldier. Steve wanted to scream that they weren’t the same person, that they would _never_ be the same.

“We need a plan. He isn’t the person you just approach.” Natasha said. Turning to look at Steve, continuing quickly before Steve could argue. “Let’s not forget, he tried to kill you. And Sam. And me.”

“Yeah, got it.” Steve said, voice clipped. He needed to get out of this room.

“Which is why you shouldn’t be involved.” Natasha glared Steve down.

Everett’s brows furrowed. “Will Captain Rogers be an issue in assisting on the search?”

“No.” Steve said coldly.

“We need to put eyes everywhere, make contact with people.” Sharon said, resting her hands on the table.

As Natasha started talking about her past connections that could know about Bucky’s whereabouts, Steve listened absentmindedly. He could get all the answers he needed if he went back to New York and to the safe house. He could learn if Bucky did this, that is if Bucky would still be there. If he wasn’t, he would just need to find where Bucky was and take him back in. Hide him out again until this all blows over and he falls off their radar. Except, this may be something too big to just blow over.

Steve got up. He had enough, he needed air, he needed to get out of that room with all of their suffocating words. “Excuse me.” Ignoring the pleading eyes from Sam and the confused looks from Natasha and Everett, he walked out of the room.

Pushing through the glass double doors to leave the building, he walked out far enough away from any eyes and ears. Pulling out his phone, he looked to see if Bucky responded. He hadn’t. “Shit.” Steve ran his hands through his hair. The more time that passed without an answer from Bucky, the guiltier Bucky looked.

He heard fast feet approaching and shot his head up to look in the direction of them. Sam was running toward him, his suit jacket flailing around him like a cape. They both didn’t even get a chance to change after the funeral. _Wow,_ Steve thought, _this has to be one of the worst days in history._

“Hey man.” Sam took a deep breath. “Anything?” He asked, referring to Bucky.

Steve shook his head, eyes now welling with tears.

“It’s okay. We’ll find him.” Sam sounded defeated. Here Sam was, helping Steve all this time with Bucky, coming out with him to support him at Peggy’s funeral, and now he was wrapped up in all of this deeper than he needed to be. Steve felt incredibly bad. He was putting Sam through so much unnecessary problems and stress.

“No way.” Steve said, voice cracking on its own accord, “Everyone will have eyes on everyone. Especially on me Sam, he’s my best friend. On you too because you’re helping me.” He looked down at his dress shoes. “Natasha doesn’t even want me helping. She’ll have eyes on us like a hawk.”

Sam nodded. “I know.” He put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I have an idea. I’ll tell Tony we should go back to New York and have FRIDAY do surveillance around the world through camera feeds.”

Steve bit his lip, it wasn’t a terrible plan. It would plant them back in New York where he could slip away to the safe house. “If he says no?”

“The guys a ghost. That’s our reasoning. He’ll need all the camera footage he can get. Who better than FRIDAY?”

Steve’s face remained stone still, tears now dripping down his cheeks.

“Then,” Sam continued, his voice full of reassurance. “We can slip out and check the safe house. See if he’s still there. Or any signs if he isn’t. It’s the only plan that I can think of to help this work in our favor while it seems like it’s in theirs.” He waited for Steve to respond. When he didn’t, Sam added, “But that means we have to get our asses back in there and tell it to them.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Steve’s voice was small, childlike. The tears leaving warm streaks down his cheeks. He wanted it to work more than anything. He just couldn’t help but feel like it wouldn’t. 

“I-” Sam then squeezed Steve’s shoulder. “Then we think of something else. We say he could be targeting the United Nations in New York next. I don’t know, Steve. Standing out here though, that isn’t helping us find him any faster than they do.”

Steve nodded, his face scrunching up as it tried to hold back the rest of tears that were trying to stream down.

They both started walking back toward the building. Steve trying to gather himself. He couldn’t let any of the others see him so vulnerable. It would show just how compromised he truly was in this search. They would _definitely not_ let him anywhere near this search if they found out. Everett could even put restrictions on Steve that would make it impossible to help. Not that it would actually stop him, but he didn’t need more to deal with.

Walking through the double doors into the building, Steve headed for the stairs that led up to the conference room they had been in.

“Uh, Rogers. Please. Spare me.” Sam said, standing by the elevator. “Been an emotional day for both of us, take a load off.”

Steve nodded and got in the elevator with Sam.

Arriving back to the floor of the conference room, Steve opened the glass doors and him and Sam walked in.

“Welcome back.” Everett said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You alright?” Sharon asked Steve, her eyes locked on him.

“Yeah. Needed a breath of fresh air is all.” He sat back down in his seat.

Sam sat back down in his seat and leaned back. “T’Challa still here?”

Natasha nodded, shifting her gaze from Steve to Sam. “Wants to help us find Barnes. We just have to talk him down from killing him first.”

Steve ran his tongue over his teeth and tried not to snap.

Sam noticed and instantly started talking. “Well, the guys a ghost, right? He attacked the U.N., who’s to say he won’t attack the one in New York? Or flee from Vienna?”

“Good point.” Everett pointed at Sam. “What are you getting at?”

Sam sat up straighter. “Assemble us all together, put Tony’s tech on surveillance through cameras stationed at important places across the world. Alongside being back in New York, which would give us eyes on the U.N. there.”

“Sam has a point.” Sharon jumped in. “We don’t know the exact motive Hydra had with this attack. Being vigilant in areas in and outside of this area is good.”

Steve nodded. “The more ground coverage, the better.” He was surprised he was even able to speak. Hearing Sharon refer to Bucky as Hydra made his stomach roll and bile rise in his throat.

Everett looked at Tony since it was his tech equipment being mentioned. “You would all need to be in New York for that to be done?”

Steve silently sent a message to whoever was listening to please let Tony say yes, they all needed to be in New York.

Tony nodded. “We’re a team so yes. As for the surveillance set up,” He pursed his lips, moving his head side to side. “Would be easier with all of my tech back at the tower. Even getting Banner to help would be beneficial too.” He leaned back in his seat. “But, if you offered me to hack into your screens, I could set my intelligence system up here.”

“Would it take time?” Everett asked.

Tony nodded.

“Then it be best you all get to New York as soon as possible.” Everett said reluctantly. “You have to keep us informed at _anything_ and _everything_ you find.”

Natasha nodded. “Of course, Commander.”

“Well, let’s get our new friend then.” Tony gestured to the room T’Challa was in. “Get on the Quinjet and get the hell back to New York.” Tony got up from his chair.

Steve got up, shook Everett’s hand, and walked out with Sam by his side.

\--

The ride back to New York, while not incredibly long, was the most painful flight Steve had ever been on. His mind, his heart were both hundreds of miles away. They were with Bucky, wherever Bucky was. Every time one of them mentioned finding Bucky, mentioned putting him on a trial, mentioned putting him in the Raft, mentioned shooting him on sight- all of it made Steve break down a little bit more inside. He just wanted to scream, cry, pound on his chest and tell them that _he_ had had Bucky before all of this, not Hydra. Tell them that he potentially still did have Bucky. That Bucky was a prisoner of war, not a killer.

He needed to find a way to slip out and get to the safe house.

But now he had to sit in Tony’s lab. It was the day after the attack, the rising sun of New York filtering through the office as Tony and Bruce set everything up. They got back about two hours ago, but Tony had to run programs within FRIDAY to ensure this would work. The plan was to have FRIDAY begin monitoring through the cameras placed around national landmarks, United Nations, political buildings, the Avengers Tower, and other various locations around different, bigger cities. There was screen upon screen with feeds of different locations already pulled up. So many people walking around, talking, laughing, heads up, heads down. Steve only grew more frustrated. Bucky could be _any_ of those people. If he walked head down, FRIDAY wouldn’t see his face. How would they know where he was? Which version of Bucky he was?

Steve bounced his leg as he watched Tony and Bruce talk, or well Tony really joking with Bruce, as they finished up the touches on the camera displays. There were so many feeds they needed a manageable way to view as many as possible. Across the room, Natasha stood next to Prince T’Challa. T’Challa rubbed his hands together as he watched some of the feeds, anger radiating off of him. Steve couldn’t blame him. He would be just as angry if he were in T’Challa’s shoes. He just wished the anger wasn’t stemming from something his past lover, best friend now, could have done.

“So,” Sam started, trying to break the tension that suffocated the room. “You like cats?” He asked T’Challa.

“Sam.” Steve sighed.

“What? Dude shows up dressed like a cat, you don’t want to know more?”

Natasha shot Sam a look and shook her head. “Sorry about that, Prince T’Challa.”

T’Challa tore his eyes from the screens to look at Natasha. “Just T’Challa, please.” He dismissed Sam entirely and turned toward Steve. Taking a deep breath, “Because your friend murdered my father, I now wear the mantle of king.” He paused before continuing. “I ask you now, as both warrior and king: How long do you think you can keep your friend safe from me?”

Steve looked away from T’Challa. He couldn’t respond, he didn’t know what to say. He was speechless. T’Challa had a great point, what could Steve do? The tension in the room was thicker at this point, filling Steve’s airways and strangling them. Keeping him quiet, choking any possible words that could have been spoken. There were no words to be spoken though because he didn’t have any. He didn’t know how he was going to be able to keep Bucky safe from the Black Panther. Hell, he didn’t know how he was going to keep him safe from Hydra at this point. He had Bucky safe for almost a year. Something was bound to happen, Steve felt he should have known that. At this point, a safe house wasn’t going to protect him anymore, not from anybody. Nothing was going to. Not unless Steve could see him, in the flesh, every second until this was passed. That wasn’t going to be able to happen. Therefore, Steve let the agony and panic flood him.

The tension started to give a similar effect to everybody else in the room. Suddenly, Tony couldn’t handle it and poked Bruce with something. Bruce jumped back, a surprised noise breaking from his lips. Tony laughed and pulled a different screen up, continuing to work.

Steve decided he couldn’t sit there anymore. He was getting more and more agitated and concerned. Not only was he exhausted, but he just needed to get answers. He couldn’t sit and sulk any longer. “Sam and I are going to go review the Winter Soldier file.” He lied.

Bruce looked up at him, biting his lip. “Won’t that be hard for you? He asked, his tone gentle, actually caring for Steve’s well-being. But in his voice, it was like he knew Steve was lying.

“I’ve read it before. No time can be harder than the first.” He shrugged. “It might give a clue, a possible motive. Just need to read it again… read it in between the lines.”

Sam nodded. “It’s a good idea.” He got up from his stool that sat by a huge, monitored feed.

“Really need both of you to do that?” Tony shot them a look.

“I’m just sitting on my ass. Might as well make myself useful.” Sam shrugged with his hands.

“That’s fair, I guess. I expect to see you at breakfast tomorrow morning to discuss what we find. Natasha said tonight would be pushing it for information.”

“We can’t rush this, Tony.” Natasha sighed. “It’d be too reckless.”

“And you now care about being reckless?” Tony quipped.

Steve took the opportunity and opened the door. Walking out, Sam followed behind.

“Bye!” Tony called as they walked out of the lab, followed by the words of Bruce telling Tony to stop messing around.

Steve was grateful that Tony and Natasha didn’t make a fuss. The last thing he needed was Natasha trying to come with them. She could read Steve like a children’s book. There was no doubt in Steve’s mind that she knew he was lying about rereading the file. Luckily, she was staying with King T’Challa, so she wasn’t likely to follow.

As Steve and Sam made it to the elevator at the end of the hall, Sam turned to him. “Are we actually-”

“Sh.” Steve said sharply, stepping into the elevator. “Wait.”

Sam nodded mutely as Steve had FRIDAY take them to his floor. As they got off at the floor, Steve turned to Sam. “We’re going.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “We?”

“In case he… In case he isn’t there. I’ll need you to help me look for signs of where he went.”

Taking a deep breath, Sam pursed his lips. “As long as we’re back by Tony’s breakfast.”

“We will be.” Steve assured. “And Sam.” He waited until Sam’s eyes met his own. “Thank you. For everything.” His voice was full of sincerity.

“You don’t have to thank me, man.” Sam smiled softly. “You’d do the same for me.”

Steve nodded. “I really would. Hopefully though, I never have to.”

Sam barked out a laugh. “Agreed.”

Steve stepped out of his kitchen with his car keys. “Let’s go.”

“No bike?” Sam joked.

“Doubt you want to wrap around me for thirty minutes.”

Wiggling his eyebrows, Sam joked, “Hunk like you, c’mon now.”

Steve shook his head, a soft laugh escaping his lips. "Let's go."

“Just know, I’m sleeping during the ride.” Sam gave Steve a serious look. “Need my beauty sleep. Especially before potentially seeing Mr. Grump.”

Steve couldn’t help the blooming of hope in his chest that Bucky could still be at the safe house. Safe. “You think he’ll be there?”

“Only one way to find out.”


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The Day of the Bombing Up Through the Present

Bucky ran, his lungs on fire as he ran so fast, so hard. His body ached as he pushed his knees farther, faster. Taking deep breaths, he pushed until he saw the house come into view. He was close, so close. Back to safety, where he could take a shower and text Steve. Steve who he missed so much.

About a foot away from his destination, he slowed down to a jog, then to a walk as he went up the steps. Leaning against his knees, he searched his pockets for his key. Groaning, he fumbled with it as he tried to get it into the door.

As he pushed open the door, he was hit with the smell of air freshener. He had finally decided to refill the plug-in scent that Steve had bought for by the front door. It may have only been about four days since Steve was last there, but Bucky had been trying to clean up after himself, eat regularly, and shower more often. There was something about the last visit he had with Steve that really pushed him to want to be better. Not for Steve, no. He wanted to be better for himself.

He was thrilled with the rush of being able to feel like himself around somebody. To feel like the part of himself that was tucked away into the horrendous arms that were the Winter Soldiers. He wanted to claw his way out, climb the metal plates of his mind that held him back. He wanted to be himself. Then maybe he could be Steve’s. He froze in the doorway of the front door at the thought. Did he want to be Steve’s? The answer was no, not really. He didn’t want to be property. He wanted to be Bucky. He wanted to be Bucky with no handlers, no hands to shove him around and pull him to their will. He didn’t think Steve would do that, but he didn’t think he would endure over fifty years or torturous pain as a prisoner of war either.

Pulling his phone from his jogger pockets, he unlocked it to see Steve’s message.

**Steve: The events in about an hour so I will talk to you when it’s over.**

Bucky wasn’t sure exactly what the event was, but it was in London. It was about one there, eight in New York. Steve had left for London the day after he had spent the day with Bucky. He had sent Bucky the occasional picture of his food that he was eating, or a cool tree he saw. Bucky laughed at the memory of Steve’s message to him about a tree he saw. He knew Steve sent it because Bucky was connected to nature, but it was still funny. With how formal Steve texted, every message sounded too fancy for its childish context.

Deciding not to message Steve again since he knew Steve would message him when the event was over (Bucky had told Steve in prior messages if he wanted Steve to stop texting him, he would let him know), he headed upstairs to take a shower.

As he pulled his now sweaty shirt from his body, he glanced down at the framed photo of his sketch from Steve. He kept it by his bedside, so each night he woke up from a nightmare, each morning he woke up scared or confused, that picture would remind him who he was. He was Bucky.

This morning, he woke up from his three hours of restless, horrid sleep and decided to stay up. His body was on fire, each nightmare that had fluttered behind his eyelids making him shake. When his mind couldn’t decipher dreams from reality, he decided sleep wasn’t worth it. Going for a run would be the best solution. He was glad he did. He needed to do something to let off the pressure of the day. It may have only been eight a.m., but his day was already off to a tortured start.

Stripping the rest of his sweaty clothes off, he walked into the bathroom and started a warm shower. He didn’t want to have scalding water since he was still hot from his workout, but he also didn’t do well with cold water. All the times in cryofreeze, being forced to freeze made him never want to freeze again.

Instead of sulking in the mirror at his self-reflection, he got right into the shower. Tipping his head back, he let the water run through his long, sweaty hair. Sighing, he took a deep breath. Massaging shampoo into his scalp, his fingers traced the two rectangular scars burned into the sides of his head. Right above his ears. The shapes of two small caskets that enclosed his tormented skull. How ironic the skull is supposed to protect the brain, yet two pieces of metal completely destroyed it.

_“You’ve seen a great deal, haven’t you?” A man asked. The man who had tried to take the Winter Soldier from Hydra, before Hydra stole him back like he was a ragdoll._

_He looked out from inside his plastic container, caging him in like he was an animal. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” Bucky forced himself to say. Not that the man deserved his words, not that any of the men who encountered Bucky in the position of handling him did._

_“You fear that if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop?”_

_His mind moved, shifted, rewired itself so that he was sitting not in his plastic container, but in his metal chair. His head buzzing like a battery, his teeth biting down hard on plastic._

_“Longing.”_

_“Rusted.”_

_“Furnace.”_

_No. His thoughts went unheard, unspoken, his arms strapped down, his teeth still bound._

_“Daybreak.”_

_"Seventeen.”_

_"Benign.”_

_He wanted to scream. To cry. To call out for anybody who would help him, save him._

_"Nine.”_

_"Homecoming.”_

_"One.”_

_His blood ran cold, no longer his. His eyes started to glaze over, no longer his. His mind started to harden, no longer his._

_"Freight car.”_

_His tongue went heavy in his mouth, no longer his. “Ready to comply.”_

Bucky gasped, his eyes wide and his arms instantly clutching at his chest. His head throbbed, not only in his ears, but in the back of his skull. Slow, rhythmic thuds. His butt throbbed too. He realized the water was still rushing over him, a little cooler of a temperature. “Oh,” he breathed out. He was still in the shower. He had fallen on his ass, hitting the back of his head against the bathtub faucet.

Standing up slow and careful, his legs like that of a baby giraffe, he noticed there was some red in the water. Reaching his shaky flesh hand to the back of his head, he felt a warmness that could only be blood. Pulling his hand back, he saw he was right. Running his fingers under the water and letting it flow down the drain, he put the clean fingers to the side of his face. Sure enough, blood had also dripped from his ears. He ran that down the drain too.

Nevertheless, he was determined to finish his shower. His body had endured worse, it would heal the back of his head itself. For a coffin of skin, it cared deeply enough about him to fix him. He didn’t want to dwell on the memory. The words, the fear, it was all so engrained in him. He could hear the voice of his handlers, the feel of the teeth guard against his gums. He could still feel the phantom sting in the scars on the sides of his skull.

Massaging conditioner into his hair, he tried to think of something else. All that came to mind underneath the agony Steve. Steve cooking him breakfast. The brief hug he gave to Steve. Bucky had to admit, he was proud of himself. He willingly touched Steve. He touched Steve because he wanted to. Not because Steve made him. It was a great step in the right direction for Bucky. It was little things like that that made Bucky feel like he could truly be better. It was evidence that he was getting better.

Rinsing his body and hair clean, he double checked that there was no blood on him. When he got out of the shower, he was going to forget about all of the pain from the memory he just had. He would pull the curtain back and be the Bucky he was before the shower. He didn’t want it to ruin his whole day, his progress. He went for a run to get away from the pain, but it followed him into the water.

Pulling the curtain back, he realized he brought no clothes with him into the bathroom. Drying off and putting his hair up in a towel, he decided he would just go spend time in his bed. He felt so weak after his subconscious took over, his head still pounding and heavy.

Walking out of the bathroom, he curled up in his blankets, naked. His hair stayed wrapped in the towel as he nuzzled himself against the pillow Steve had slept on a couple nights before. It didn’t really smell like him anymore, but it lingered enough for Bucky’s satisfaction.

Bucky should have worried about sleeping naked, unguarded. He tried to fight the paranoia that somebody would come in and take him. He tried to remind himself that he was safe here, the whole point of a safe house being a _safe_ house. Curling himself deeper into the blankets he let the cool linen wrap around his bare skin. If anybody came for him, he knew it would be Hydra. His naked body was nothing they had never seen before. Bucky wished his mind would shut off and just let him lay in bed, whether it be now when he was naked or any other night when he was clothed. He wanted to be able to move freely and not constantly worry about somebody’s hands on him.

Reaching to adjust the framed photo so it faced him better, he bumped his phone onto the floor. Groaning, he buried his face into Steve’s pillow. He just needed to rest off the headache. Trying to focus his attention onto the smell of the pillow and the safeness of the blankets wrapped around him, he counted in his head until he was able to drift off.

\--

_“Again.” The voice rattled in his skull._

_Bucky sat there, eyes wide and vulnerable, his hair framing his face. “I knew him.”_

_“Again.” The man snapped, louder and with more authority._

_Hands forced him back into the chair, metal wrapping around both of his wrists, yet he only felt the coolness on his right. Metal cradled his shoulders and chest._

_The metal clipped his head in place as somebody slipped the mouth guard into his mouth. This was it. He was trapped, helpless, waiting for the jolt to his abused system._

_"Bucky.”_

_Bucky stared straight at the yellowing white wall before him. His mind repeating the phrase_ I knew him _over and over again._

_"Bucky wake up.”_

_His body was being overcome, pushed around in the chair as the metal sparked through to his brain._

_"C’mon Buck.”_

_The mantra broke away from his brain. I knew him was fading into I knew and then just I and then just blankness. It was replaced with fear, with pain. A rip spread through Bucky’s chest, through his throat in a painful scream._

_"Bucky wake up!”_

“Bucky!”

Bucky sat up, his spine rod straight and the blanket falling away from his chest, pooling at his bare waist. Hands were on his metal arm, wrapped around it. His flustered brain recognized it as a threat. Without looking, he flung his arm out with force, hitting the man away from him. He was staring at the wall straight ahead, but it wasn’t the dingy yellow he expected, it was pale blue. Slowly, he dragged his head over to the side of the room where he hit the man toward. The man was Steve.

“Steve?” Bucky croaked. 

“Yeah.” Steve replied, standing up from where Bucky had hit him to. “Jesus Buck.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He could feel he wasn’t alone with just Steve. He turned his eyes toward the doorway where he felt the presence. Leaning against the frame of it was Sam. Bucky still remained silent, scanning the rest of the room to be safe. There was only Steve and Sam here. Bringing his eyes to looking down on himself, he realized he was still naked under the blankets. Quickly, he grabbed the thick comforter and wrapped it around himself. Maybe if it were only Steve here, he wouldn't feel the need for the extra layer of covering but, Sam was here, and he still didn't fully trust Sam.

“Bucky?” Steve asked tentatively, stepping toward him.

“Careful Steve.” Sam said, sounding nervous. That bothered Bucky. He would never hurt Steve. He had just flung him into the wall, but he had good reason. He was having a nightmare, he was scared, caught off guard.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky asked, looking directly at Sam.

“I brought him here.” Steve’s eyes ran down Bucky’s body and to the blanket. Steve changed course, walking toward the closet instead of toward Bucky.

“Why?” Bucky’s eyes turned to Steve’s, full of distrust. He didn’t mind Steve showing up, but he did mind Sam. Especially unannounced. It made him uneasy.

“You weren’t answering your phone. Where have you been?” Steve asked in fake calmness. The way the words forced themselves out as if he wanted to yell at Bucky made him even more on edge.

Suddenly, the uneasy feeling was replaced with anger. Bucky hadn't answered his phone and now Steve was at his door, asking where he had been. He wasn't Steve's property, nor Sam's. He was his _own_ property. "Shouldn't matter." Bucky said between clenched teeth.

"Oh," Sam raised his eyebrow. "It does. A lot"

“Shut up.” Bucky spat, turning his attention to Sam. “You don’t get to control me and what _I_ do when I am by _myself_.”

“No Bucky,” Steve rushed, hands placed in front of him. “It isn’t like that. I promise. Just,” His eyes and voice were pleading, “Please, tell us what you’ve been doing.”

Bucky drew in a breath. His mouth acting against his screaming brain. “I’ve been in and out of sleep.” He reached for his phone, checking the time. “For a long time.” He added. Opening his phone, he saw the seven missed calls from Steve, two missed calls from Sam, and ten missed text messages from Steve.

**Steve: Bucky, where are you?**

**Steve: Bucky?**

**Steve: I’m not mad Bucky. Please answer your phone.**

**Steve: Bucky please.**

**Steve: Buck, answer your phone.**

**Steve: Dammit Bucky, where are you?**

**Steve: Are you okay?**

**Steve: Bucky please answer.**

**Steve: Bucky.**

**Steve: Bucky please respond.**

Bucky’s brows furrowed as he looked up at Steve. “Why ‘aren’t’ you mad at me?” He asked, his voice sounding like one of a man pressed into a corner.

“Bucky, I really need to know where you’ve been.”

“Yeah.” Bucky took the shirt Steve offered and pulled it on. “I told you, I’ve been here. Trying to sleep.”

Steve handed him a pair of sweatpants and shook his head. As Steve opened his mouth to say something, Sam spoke and asked, “That’s seriously it?”

Bucky scoffed, putting the sweatpants on from underneath the mound of blankets. He really didn’t want to flash Sam anything, well maybe his metal middle finger. “You don’t believe me?”

“No.” Sam said instantly, earning a harsh look from Steve.

Steve mildly started to tell Bucky, “There was a bombing-”

“And you think I did that?” Bucky snapped, cutting him off. Jumping out of bed with the fire that ignited in his chest, he stood away from Steve and Sam. “I don’t do that anymore.”

“They have pictures.” Sam said, pushing himself off the doorway and walking into the bedroom, phone faced toward Bucky. It showed a picture of a man who looked a lot like him. Underneath it, the caption read “ _Winter Soldier Bombs United Nations in Vienna”._

Bucky stared at it; mouth open in a small ‘o’. He didn’t understand what was going on. The date on the article was yesterdays. Yesterday he went for a run. Took a shower, fell in the shower. The memory had the trigger words, but they didn’t _actually_ trigger him. Then he had curled up naked in bed and was in and out of sleep until Steve was pushing him awake.

“We just need to know, Buck.”

“That isn’t me!” Bucky turned away from the phone. “I’ve been here!”

“Can you prove it?” Sam slid his phone back into his pocket.

Bucky scoffed, eyes turning to shoot daggers at Sam. “How do you want me to prove it, huh? Want me to show you the cut on the back of my head or my bruised ass from when I fell in the shower?” He wiped his face with both hands. He knew those wounds would be mostly, if not all the way healed, by now. But he knew Sam and Steve definitely would _not_ want to see that.

As Steve looked like he was going to say something, Bucky kept talking. He was too outraged now. Somebody was trying to frame him. “Where was that? Vienna? How would I have gotten there? Please, answer me that.” Bucky shook his head in disbelief. How could this be happening? He couldn’t wrap his mind around the situation, which was shocking to him because it’s been wrapped around worse.

Sam shook his head. “Don’t want to see that.” He muttered, pursing his lips. “Why didn’t you answer your phone then?” Sam asked, his voice dropping the accusatory tone.

“I told you, I was trying to sleep!” Bucky snapped, agitation seeping into his bones. They come in here with no hello and just jump his shit. He started repeating himself, “I went for a run, then I fell in the shower-”

“You fell in-”

“Steve!” Bucky threw his arms up. “Yes! I _fell_ in the shower because I was remembering something. Then I got out, laid in bed, and must have spent the whole day there.”

Steve nodded but didn’t say anything. He bit his bottom lip and looked toward Sam. “I believe him.” He said quietly.

“Gee, thanks.” Bucky rolled his eyes.

Sam looked to Bucky. “You do know they are literally accusing you of an attack, right? An attack that _killed_ the king of Wakanda.”

Bucky stood still, allowing the words to truly sink into him. Fear began wrapping its dark tendrils over his anger. “I didn’t do it though. If I just stay here, I’m safe. Right?” He looked at Steve, eyes pleading. “Please, Steve. Tell me I’m still safe here.”

Steve’s teeth sank deeper into his bottom lip. “I can’t promise that right now.”

Bucky shook his head. Fear was now fully wrapped over him. Hydra would come back for him. This was it. He was being framed to be pulled out of hiding. They were going to take him back in, work on his arm, fry his brain, and kill Bucky away. Winter Soldier would replace his eyes, his face. His voice would be muzzled, and he would be their killing machine again. This was Hydra’s plan, their dark _twisted_ plan. As far as Bucky was concerned, it was working. Why else would Steve and Sam show up accusing him?

“You have to believe me.” Bucky shook his head frantically. “I wasn’t in Vienna. I haven’t been the soldier in almost a year.” Bucky paused, dragging in deep breaths.

“Buck, calm down.” Steve reached a hand forward, but Bucky pushed it away. He needed space.

“No, you don’t get it.” Bucky’s eyes were wide, frantic. “This is a part of their plan. They want people to find me. They want to bring me back in!”

“I won’t let that happen.” Steve said sternly, promise wrapped in his tone. “Buck, we need to prove your innocent.”

“That’s impossible to do without bringing him into the public.” Sam said. “Barnes is on everybody’s radar.”

“What if we convince the team that he’s innocent?”

Sam looked at Steve like he grew two heads. “Yeah Cap. Yeah, everybody’s going to believe that.” He deadpanned. “Barnes needs to stay here.” Sam said, then paused thinking. “We get him better surveillance that FRIDAY won’t get signals from.”

“Or,” Steve started, completely ignoring the dig Sam took at him. “We can sneak him onto my floor in the tower.”

“Steve, did I just miss you get hit over the head with a brick?” Sam shook his head, ridiculing Steve, “That’s impossible!”

“Not if I tell FRIDAY to turn off my room surveillance.”

“You have surveillance in your room?” Bucky interjected their arguing to ask.

“Yes, but I can turn it off.”

“Steve.” Sam shook his head.

“We can’t keep him here!” Steve pointed at Bucky. “We do that, something happens, it would take too long to get here.”

Bucky nods, actually agreeing with Steve. He tries to put away the idea that they’re talking about him like he’s a stuffed animal. He knows they are concerned about his safety, but it reminds him so much of when Hydra would argue over him.

He squeezed his eyes shut, popping them back open instantly. He needed to stay in the present, focusing on what he was going to do. If they put him under watch, all it would do was make Bucky anxious. It wouldn’t be another layer of protection. He would still be alone out here. Steve and the tower were too far away. If something happened, they weren’t protecting him. Bucky would still be alone, protecting himself.

It hit Bucky then that he would never _really_ be safe. The safe house had been giving him a layer of protection and security, but it was never going to be enough. Not when Hydra would constantly be looking for their weapon. It kept him on constant edge. He could hold his own, he knew he could. Yet, Hydra had _words_ that could bring him to his knees for them in seconds. Those words would outweigh the force of his metal first. He would have no choice. He would mindlessly comply because the soldier is inside him and would forever live in him.

“Sam, it’s the only choice we have. I can’t leave him here alone to fend for himself if something happens. Worse, government finds him and actually shoots him on site.”

Bucky’s head whipped from his thoughts. “Wait.” He held his hands out. “They want to shoot me on sight?”

Sam and Steve both nodded slowly.

Bucky wanted to argue it. He _so badly_ wanted to argue it. Yet, he knew he couldn’t. It would be the best way to take him down for good. “Smart. Good strategy.” Bucky choked the words out.

Now he was really regretting allowing himself to cry sometimes. Now his eyes were filling to the brim with traitorous tears. That was the last thing he wanted to do- cry. Not being able to handle the stress, he pushed past both of them and walked out of his room, down the stairs and straight out the door. He continued walking down the porch front steps, not stopping until he was in front of the fire pit.

Bucky had put the fire pit together a few days after he first moved into the safe house. The fire pit had been, in some ways, a friend to Bucky. When he had moved in and put it together, pretty soon he was sitting by it when it was nice outside constantly. Daytime or nighttime, it never mattered. He would start a fire and sit by it, write by it. When he felt pain from an echo of his past, wrote something down he didn’t like or wrote something down too many times in a fit of fury, he would give it to the fire. Bucky would rip the pages out and feed it to the hungry, hot flames. To Bucky, the firepit was his soul. He passed the pain to the embers to try to lift it from himself. It never worked. The only thing the firepit gave him was a shoulder to lean on, even if it was just the silent burning of his broken past.

He had tried to burn a memory of him and Steve he got during a time he had casted Steve away. He had written it down and then wrote it again, wondering if he was remembering it correctly. It had hurt, it had confused him. It was his first recollection of something so intimate with Steve. He didn’t know what to do with it, not when they were nothing like it now. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hold onto the thought. He wondered if it was real, but it felt _really_ real.

_Bucky laid next to Steve; their legs intertwined under the thin blanket of their shared bed. They faced each other, their noses brushing each other’s gently, their air mingling into one as their bodies just had. Reaching out, Bucky traced his thumb across the rosy cheekbone of Steve’s flushed face. “You’re stunning.” Bucky breathed, his lips pressing delicately to Steve’s._

_Steve kissed back sweetly, his tongue tasting of Bucky as much as it did Steve. Steve gently pulled away, their lips brushing as he spoke softly to Bucky, “And you’re sweet.”_

_Bucky smirked slightly; his eyes unable to leave the beauty of Steve. “My mouth or my words?”_

_Steve pretended to ponder the answer. “How about both?”_

_“Hmm.” Bucky nodded, pressing his lips to Steve’s as he gently eased him back onto his back._

_Bucky marveled in the way Steve and him fit together like two puzzle pieces. He held himself up in the space between Steve’s thighs which wrapped around Bucky’s thighs. Their lips never broke in the movement. Their kiss deepened, pulling them toward each other as if coming together in the most intimate of ways such as kissing would never be enough for the two men. And Bucky knew, they would never be close enough._

_Bucky’s hand slid down the soft expanse of Steve’s warm chest. Tracing down the thin skin and outline of each muscle, he listened as Steve breathed in sharply under the delicate touches._

_Bucky had studied the beauty of Steve since they met. Like the way Steve lit up whenever Bucky mentioned Coney Island. Or like the way Steve would run his fingers over his art when he finished a piece, admiring it. Bucky imagined that the way he traced Steve’s body was how Steve must have felt with his art. Bucky traced it just as gently. Drifting lower, tracing swirls until it traced down and up the length of Steve’s soft, spent cock._

_Steve breathed in deeply, his hips jerking upward. His cock began stiffening under the gentle torment of Bucky’s fingertips. Bucky just smiled softly, pulling away from Steve’s mouth to look down into his eyes. The blueness was drowned away by the darkness of his pupils. It was as if the ocean was being flooded with ink._

_“Bucky,” Steve shook his head, his hands reaching up to grab at Bucky’s chest._

_“What?” Bucky feigned innocence. “I’m not doin’ anything.”_

_Steve bit his lip as Bucky’s fingertips traced down over his balls and toward the openness of his puffy hole. “That’s the point.” A soft moan slipped past his lips._

_Bucky smiled sweetly at Steve. “I love you.” He breathed, pressing a single finger into Steve._

_Steve rolled his hips, looking up at Bucky with pupils even more blown than before. “I love you too.”_

Bucky blinked back into the present. His head was now pounding, and his ears were ringing. The memory was so sweet it was painful. It was a flashback he remembered so well now because he remembered it _so_ often. It never left him. He tried to ignore it, tried to burn it, but it _always_ came back. It always swaddled him in the realization that he had _loved_ Steve.

He couldn’t believe that he had something like that with Steve- _love_. Him and Steve were so far from that now. Bucky was damaged goods now. Steve was still Steve, the beautiful golden boy. They were so different. The sun and the moon kind of different. Steve was stunning, a radiating presence in any room. He made you feel safe and warm. Bucky was different, he was the all-encompassing darkness that you feared would wrap around you when the sun no longer protected you.

Bucky looked down at the firepit. The cool coals begging him to be reignited so he could write the memory and nourish the fire with its story once more. He knew Steve cared about him, but did he care about Bucky like that? In the way of endless love like the memory? If so, did he want Bucky to touch him like that again? Did Bucky _want_ to touch him like that again?

Reaching up, Bucky grabbed at his hair and sat down in the ratty lawn chair he left by the fire pit. He needed to calm down, both mind and body. Steve was right inside the safe house, no just house now. He wasn’t safe. Even more, Steve and Bucky weren’t alone, Sam was here too. He didn’t need Sam seeing him like this. He rubbed both palms into his eyes, careful with his left not to let any of the plating’s clip his eyelid. He vowed he would only make that mistake once… alright twice.

“You alright, Buck?” Steve’s deep voice broke Bucky away from his mental ache.

Looking up with red rimmed eyes that shined over, he shrugged. He wanted to speak a response to his _love_ , his _friend_ , his… _Steve_. He didn’t trust his voice. Not after everything he was thinking of, the way he was thinking of Steve. The same man who stood before him with concern swimming in the ocean of his eyes.

Steve nodded, but looked scarcely convinced. He sat down on the ground next to Bucky’s chair. “I’m really sorry I tried to accuse you of the bombing.”

Bucky waved his right hand, dismissing Steve. “I would have done the same thing. It makes sense after all.” He looked down at Steve, “They have a picture of me.”

“But it isn’t you. Not if you were here.” Steve pointed out, leaning his head up to look at Bucky.

“Maybe Hydra cloned me.” Bucky joked, until he cut the chuckle off mid rising as he realized Hydra really _could_ _have_. “I don’t think they did.” He added quietly.

Steve tensed, bringing in a deep breath. His eyes closed as he softly told Bucky, “I want to protect you.”

Bucky nodded, biting back the response he wanted so desperately to respond with- _why?_

“I know you don’t need me to.” Steve continued quickly, eyes opening to look down at Bucky’s bare feet. “You can take care of yourself… I just, I can’t lose you again.” Steve’s nose twitched; a fragment of Bucky wanted to kiss it to calmness. “People are going to look for you. I’m just trying to figure out the best approach, so they don’t.”

“Maybe I move.” But Bucky knew, he liked it here. He was trying to turn it into a home. Maybe it still needed a lot of work. Maybe _he_ still needed a lot of work- but turning something into a home takes time. He desperately needed a home, a home in his own skin and a home for his skin. After seventy years, it was all he craved.

Steve shook his head. “Sam thinks that could draw more attention. I recommended that too when you walked out of the room.” He looked at the house, Bucky’s eyes tracing the sharpness of Steve’s profile. “Maybe, if you’re okay with it, I can visit more often.”

“I’d like that.” Bucky said quietly. He didn’t even hesitate because he would like that, he would like that a lot. It churned something dark and warm within him.

Steve smiled softly. “But we can still text and stuff. You can even call me if you ever need to. You know that, right?” He turned his attention to Bucky.

Quickly turning away, Bucky nodded. Now he took his turn to look at the house. “I appreciate it.”

Sam walked out of the house, phone in hand typing away. “So, Barnes if you’re cool with it, I think Steve and I should set up some surveillance like I mentioned. It’s the safest plan I got.” He looked up from his phone as he slid it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Steve stood up and wiped his hands off on the front of his pants. “Still don’t see how my idea of sneaking Bucky into the tower is a bad one.” He muttered.

Bucky scoffed, “Yeah because having a whole other person in your space isn’t suspicious in the slightest.”

Sam smirked. “Wow, I can’t believe it. I agree with Barnes. A first.”

“Watch it.” Bucky snapped, a teasing smirk faint on his lips.

“Or what? I’m trying to protect your ass.” Sam quipped.

“Not that he needs it.” Steve quickly added, looking from Sam to Bucky.

“Nice save.” Bucky got up from his chair, running his flesh hand through his hair.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Anyway, so it’s okay we do it?”

Bucky nodded. What other choice did he have? Even if he wasn’t the happiest person on earth about the extra surveillance, at least it was a layer of security in Steve’s mind. When Bucky thought about it like that, it eased some tension in his own mind. He tried to push it out, not wanting to dwell on what that could mean.

“Alright.” Sam looked at Steve, “We’ll get some equipment. After we do, we can set it up at my place and make sure FRIDAY doesn’t get to it then we can bring it here.” He turned to Bucky adding, “Probably won’t be for a few days. Will you be alright?” He asked in earnest.

Bucky nodded. “As long as only you two are seeing it once it’s installed.”

“Of course.” Steve didn’t look thrilled with the plan. Bucky imagined Steve would only like a plan that put Bucky in his presence for a majority of the day, if not the whole day. Bucky wondered if he would like to be with Steve all the time.

Sam glared at Steve. “What’s wrong with my plan?”

“We can’t get it any sooner?” He asked Sam impatiently.

Sam gave Steve a look that made even Bucky chuckle. “I mean we can rush it but, I’d rather _not_ have every single government official on our asses. And it would be _all_ of our asses”

Steve quirked a brow in silent surrender. “You’ll reach out if you need anything? Or if something happens?” He asked Bucky.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.” He gave Steve a small smile, “Don’t worry about me.” He joked, “I can handle myself, Dad.”

Sam bit back a laugh. “Yeah, Steve. Give your cyborg some space.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Wow.”

Sam winked.

Steve shook his head; his cheeks bright red. Bucky couldn't help but smile at the way Steve flustered under both his and Sam's words. He would have dwelled on it more, except Sam spoke up.

"Alright Cap, let's go get some equipment."

Steve nodded, reaching into his pocket for his keys. "Stay in touch, Buck. Stay safe." His eyes looked uneasy, like leaving Bucky was the hardest thing he ever had to do.

Bucky nodded, "I promise." He raised his left hand. The words he wanted to tell Steve before he got into his car got choked in his throat but repeated over and over in his head until the car pulled away- _Till the end of the line, Stevie._


	7. Chapter 6

Both Steve and Sam sat on the floor of Sam’s living room of the tower. Infront of them was a pile of surveillance equipment. They had done a lot of research and preparation over the past four days on different equipment. First, they had to find a reliable one that gave them good picture and wasn’t grainy. Then, they had to hide out in a different building to hook it up to see if it even worked. They hid away in case it signaled to FRIDAY and would have showed the tower. That would have sparked too much confusion to redeem themselves. Sadly, FRIDAY picked up its signals. Sam and Steve had to rewire and change up the surveillance until finally, FRIDAY didn’t read it. Now, they sat on the floor of Sam’s living room making sure they were able to use their computer to trace the image still now that FRIDAY couldn’t. Luckily, they could thanks to some encryption codes Sam was able to work into the program. Steve knew in that moment; Sam was spending too much time with Natasha. He had some questions. 

They had been doing this for about an hour and a half now. They didn’t talk about anything in particular, the length of every conversation around the tower was Bucky. Sam tried not to bring it up around Steve when they were alone, just the occasional how is he small talk. Other than that, Sam tried to joke with Steve or recommend a tv program he saw.

Steve leaned back on his palm as he handed Sam a camara to test. “Want to know what I almost did?”

“Always.” Sam chuckled, plugging the camera in, and looking at the screen.

“I almost dropped my phone… into the toilet.”

“Never!” Sam laughed, looking up at Steve. “How?”

“I was texting Bucky. When I went to set it down on the counter, I missed, and it fell. It _barely_ missed the bowl.”

“Oh Cap!” Sam laughed even harder. “Your eyesight actin’ up old man?” He teased.

Steve scoffed, looking at the box the camera went into. “I don’t think I could get old even if I wanted to.”

“Do you want to?” Sam asked, typing something into the keyboard.

Steve shrugged. “Honestly, maybe one day. I just wonder if I can have a life you know. Away from chaos and destruction and just be me, Steve Rogers. Live with Bu-” He paused and bit his lip as he felt Sam’s eyes drift up to look at him.

Because that was all Steve ever wanted wasn’t it? To live a life with his best friend, his love, his Bucky?

“Have you talked to him today?” Sam asked gently as he unplugged one of the cameras and put it back into the box, then into the backpack they would take to the safehouse with them.

Steve nodded, handing Sam another camera. “Yeah. He seems bored and on edge.” He shrugged.

“A great combo for an assassin.” Sam joked, but Steve didn’t take it that way.

“ _Ex_ -assassin.” Steve glared.

Sam looked up at Steve. “Hey man, you’re on edge too.” He hooked the camera up and clicked around the screen. “You know I don’t mean it _too_ seriously.” When Steve didn’t say anything, Sam looked up from the screen toward him. “Steve, I obviously have a weird soft spot for the guy to be helping you this much for him.”

“I know.” He sighed. “I appreciate everything you’ve done and are doing.” Steve handed him another camera when he reached for it. “I just, not seeing him-It worries me. Especially when people are hunting for his head.”

It was true. Steve was beyond uneasy thinking of Bucky’s safety. People wanted him, some alive but most dead. The ones who want Bucky alive, he was better off dead at that point. Either way, if they couldn’t keep Bucky safe until they figured out a way to bring him back into society while not posing a threat, they were screwed.

Steve wondered if they were genuinely preserving Bucky, or if all of this is just prolonging the inevitable. 

Bucky was supposed to be s _afe_ in that safe house, that was the whole point of Steve bringing him in all those months ago. Now nowhere felt like it would be safe enough for Bucky. Not in Steve’s mind. Bucky would only be safe with Steve because he knew he would never let anybody touch a hair on Bucky’s gorgeous, damaged head. While Bucky texted Steve like he was alright and safe, he knew that the day they left him last, Bucky was worried. He didn’t want to fight- Bucky even said it himself that he _never_ did. If somebody came to take him away, Hydra or the government, would he fight? Steve wanted to hope so.

“We are putting these up tonight, right?” Steve asked Sam.

It had only been four days since they told Bucky they would get him the equipment, but it was four days too long in Steve’s mind. He needed to protect Bucky. Bucky always protected Steve, now it was his turn to return the favor.

Sam looked at the bag of cameras. “Yeah. As long as nothing comes up.”

“From the cameras?” Steve asked worriedly.

“Oh, no. These are working like a dream.” Sam put the last camera into the box and slid it into the bag. “I meant that nobody needs us in the tower.”

“They shouldn’t.” Steve mumbled.

He was still frustrated about the previous night. Tony _insisted_ on them all having dinner together. The dinner that went _three hours_. Steve still cared about his team; he cared a lot. But there was too much going on for him to really be with them. He was there physically, which was enough for them, but he wasn’t there mentally.

At least Sam cared about Steve’s friend… and his wellbeing.

Sam laughed. “Yeah, you definitely were on edge there too. Like I said, you’re on edge.”

“How can I not be? They act like searching for Bucky isn’t hard. Even though they have dead ends, that should piss them off more.”

“Dead ends thanks to us.” Sam added, zipping the bag up.

“Yeah.” Steve sighed and looked down at his hands. “But it’s so painful for me to watch. They don’t even care that I care.” He bit his lip, feeling emotion bubble in his chest. “If it were _Tony’s_ ex best friend, lover, whatever the fuck you want to call it- it would _not_ be this way.” Steve said, voice clipped, indignant.

Steve knew he was right, and he could tell from Sam’s face that Sam agreed with him. If it were _anybody_ else in the tower in the same predicament as Steve, it would be handled differently. Especially if it were Tony. Tony wouldn’t allow his ex-best friend to endure such torment after they just suffered seventy years of it. But no, it had to be Steve.

Tony would act like the sun set on Steve's ass when he needed something. But sometimes, Tony would shoot Steve daggers in meetings, or just completely disregard his feelings. People thought it was a fantastic relationship they had, but it was so love and hate. Steve was convenient for Tony, and Steve, deep down, knew it.

Steve cared so much about everybody else, he never threw a pity party for himself. He would grin and bear any pain if it made somebody else feel better. This time though, this is the one-time Steve wants to feel sorry for himself. He wants to scream at the whole team, tell them how it isn’t fair. Confess to them he has Bucky, that Bucky’s harmless and needs help. He doesn’t need prison, he needs nurture. Nurture Steve is trying to give him while protecting him at a distance and maintaining a lie.

For a shit liar and all things considered, he thinks he’s doing alright.

Sam watched Steve throughout the whole thought process he just had. Steve could feel the eyes boring into him.

“Want a drink?” Sam asked tentatively.

“Can’t get drunk.”

“So? Beer still tastes good.” Sam got up and headed toward his kitchen.

“Sam.”

“Yeah?”

Steve glanced at the clock. “It’s only noon.”

Sam laughed as he came back with two bottles of water. “Yeah, well Captain Buzzkill.” He handed Steve a bottle and sat down on his couch. “You ever heard the saying ‘it’s five o’clock somewhere’?”

“Hasn’t everyone?” Steve leaned back against the chair opposite the couch.

“Fair.” Sam checked his phone then set it down. “Anyway, what’s Barnes been actually up to?”

Steve shrugged, looking down at his nails. He had started biting them again in his worry, he hated the bad habit. “He sent me a picture of the spaghetti he made the other day.”

“Delicious.” Sam deadpanned.

Steve rolled his eyes. “We just talk about stupid stuff. He’ll ask me if I remember a memory he has so he can tell if it was real or not. Sometimes he just tells me what he’s doing.”

Sam nodded, looking at Steve. “He remember anything from your past that’s, you know.” He waved his hand.

Steve shook his head. “No. As far as he knows, we were two best pals.” He took a sip of water and made a noise to indicate to Sam he was going to continue talking. “And before you ask, no. I haven’t hinted.”

“He’s discovering things on his own, that’s what matters. It could come back. Or he could re-fall in love with you.”

Steve felt his heart clench at the thought. The _could_ possibility. Bucky may never love Steve again. A world where Bucky doesn’t love Steve is a world Steve isn’t sure he wants to live in. Steve knew there would never be a world where he didn’t love Bucky endlessly.

_“Buck!” Steve laughed after Bucky walked into their shared apartment and plowed his whole body into Steve’s, knocking them both back onto the couch._

_“I missed you.” Bucky said into Steve’s chest, muffling the words. His warm breath reached Steve’s cool skin through the thin t-shirt he had on._

_“I can tell. Lucky I wasn’t sketching, or it would’ve been ruined you jerk.”_

_“Hey!” Bucky sat up, his eyes sparkling as if they were diamonds. “Am I not allowed to come home and love you?” He quirked a brow, “I can leave?”_

_“No!” Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist. “How was work?” He kissed Bucky’s stubbly cheek._

_Bucky curled back into Steve. For a big man, he made himself small, fitting into Steve as if he was a cat. “Fine.” He said simply. “Same as always. I work and think of you, then I come home and look at your beautiful face. Then the day is good again.”_

_Steve blushed. “Again?”_

_“Well yeah,” Bucky kissed along Steve’s jaw. “I wake up and look at your sleeping face and think ‘wow it’ll be a good day because I saw an angel first thing’. Then I go to work knowin’ I’ll come back home to him.”_

_Steve smiled and reached his lips down, kissing the top of Bucky’s head. “I love you.”_

_Bucky blushed, a glowing red spanning across his defined cheekbones. It knocked the breath right out of Steve. “I…love…you…too.” Bucky replied to him between soft, delicate kisses._

Steve bit his lip and looked down at his bottle of water. All he wanted was to be able to wrap around Bucky again. Love him like he wanted to since the day they met. It was never supposed to be them forever, not when it could never be them to begin with back in the day. Now it could be. The universe revealed Bucky to him once more. It was as if the universe was apologizing for making both their lives a living nightmare. Steve having to see Bucky come home with girls, or Bucky spending nights at a girl’s place only to come home and wrap around Steve and tell him sweet nothings. It was supposed to be them, but the universe made it so hard then. Steve inwardly scoffed. If it was trying to apologize to him now, chewing up Bucky and then spitting him out at Steve’s feet was not the nicest apology he ever received.

“So.” Steve said, wanting his mind to stop thinking of Bucky and wanting Sam’s eyes to stop looking at Steve as if he was a hurt puppy. “You were pretty good with that computer and surveillance…stuff.”

Sam realized Steve was trying to shift the attention and graciously went with it. “What can I say? I’m a genius.” He said with a smirk.

“Or,” Steve smirked back, “You’ve been spending a lot of time with Nat.”

“Oh no. No no no.” Sam shook his head, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. “I have not.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “No?”

“Okay maybe a little, but not like that. She’s just a total badass. If she wants to hang out, I’m not going to turn it down.”

“No funny business?”

“No.” Sam rolled his eyes. “And if there were, you’d be the first to know Grandpa.”

Steve felt his phone buzz in his pocket and reached for it. “Hold on.” He read the message from Bucky.

**Bucky: When you come hook up surveillance, can you bring popcorn? Not the microwave kind, the popping scared the hell out of me.**

**S** teve frowned, wishing he would have thought of that when he was grocery shopping for Bucky. The popping of popcorn is something Sam said was a trigger for him after his service. He should have remembered that. 

**Steve: Yes. Should be tonight.**

Instantly, Bucky replied.

**Bucky: Do you want to spend the night too?**

**Bucky: That’s my way of asking.**

**Bucky: But you don’t have to.**

**S** teve couldn’t stop the grin that formed on his lips, earning a “What?” from Sam.

**Steve: I will.**

**Bucky: Cool.**

**Steve: :o)**

**Bucky: Your smiley makes me feel and not the good way.**

**Steve: It’s cute, Buck!**

“Wow Mr. Smiley, would you like to share with the class?” Sam leaned back on the couch; eyes glued on Steve.

“Bucky asked for already popped popcorn.”

Sam gave a sympathetic head nod. “Yeah, I get that. Took me months. Get him a bag of the cheese kind too, he’ll love it. He strikes me as a cheese kind of guy.”

Steve laughed. He wanted to tell Sam about Bucky wanting him to spend the night, but heard the elevator and instantly snapped his mouth shut.

“Falcon, Captain, Widow has requested to visit.” FRIDAY said through the speakers.

Sam quickly kicked the bookbag under the couch. “She may.” He said up toward the ceiling.

Steve pulled himself off the ground and into the chair as the elevator opened to reveal Natasha. She was in dark black jeans and a dark red hoodie. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun.

“Hey.” She said, walking into Sam’s kitchen, grabbing a water bottle.

“Oh yes, help yourself!” Sam teased.

“Thanks, I will.” She smirked. “So, what are you two up to?”

Sam shrugged. “Just hanging out.”

Natasha nodded, seemingly convinced. “Any luck on your ends?” She asked, referring to the search for Bucky.

“No.” Steve lied, hoping Natasha wouldn’t push him further. After all, she did know Bucky was a sore spot for him. She also knew Steve couldn’t lie to save his own ass. Steve wished he could at least lie a little bit to save Bucky’s.

Sam shook his head as Natasha sat down next to him. “Yours?”

“Maybe.” She cracked the lid off her water bottle. “Need one of you to come with me on a lead tonight.” When Sam looked at Steve and Steve looked at Sam, she continued. “Steve, you want to? Sam went with me last time and I think I bored him.”

“Not bored me, just insulted me the whole time.” Sam clarified.

“I did not!”

“You called Redwing an ‘it’.”

“Sam,” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s a part of your suit.”

“So? Redwing is incredible.”

“Anyway,” Natasha looked at Steve. “You in?”

Steve bit his lip and picked at the label of his water bottle. He knew he should, but he was supposed to go hook up equipment with Sam. He was supposed to see Bucky, and he wanted to- badly. Hell, he really wanted to spend the night with Bucky. The fact Bucky wanted him to and now he had to wonder if he could, he hated the pulling between two sides of him. He knew the more he avoided the team, the more they could start to develop suspicion.

“Sure.” He forced the one, short word out.

Sam nodded and moved his hand down the side of the couch, flashing Steve a thumbs up. His silent way of telling Steve it would be alright, he would still take the equipment. Steve just hoped they would get along. Bucky didn’t seem like he enjoyed the presence of Sam all that much.

“Cool.” Natasha leaned back into the couch. “Let’s leave here around five.”

“Suit or casual?”

“Casual but with defense.” Natasha gave him a small smile. “Just don’t try to sneak any birds.”

“Oh, ha ha.” Sam shook his head. “Redwing being there and recording the conversation was genius. You’re only mad because you didn’t think about it.”

Steve laughed, “Well damn.”

Natasha rolled his eyes. “Steve, thank you for coming. I’m already done with Sam for the day.” She joked.

-

Steve waited in the living room of the tower for Natasha to be ready. He had opted for a pair of khakis and a light blue and grey striped t-shirt. Of course, he decided to complete his look with a baseball cap. He knew his defense of choice was his shield, which he couldn’t bring. He would just have to fight his way out if something happened hand and fist. 

As he leaned against the kitchen island waiting, he heard the elevator ding. Not with Natasha, but with T’Challa.

“Afternoon.” Steve greeted him.

“Captain.” T’Challa gave him a head nod and walked over to him. “You have any signs of your friend?”

Steve swallowed and shook his head. He hadn’t spoken to T’Challa since that day in Tony’s lab. T’Challa didn’t come to dinners with the team or game nights. He did his own thing, his own hunt for Bucky. It scared Steve- a lot- because he knew T’Challa was smart. T’Challa could find Bucky with his own luck and skill.

“Are you going somewhere?” He waved his hand to indicate Steve’s appearance.

“Oh uh,” He stammered, looking down and adjusting his tight shirt. “Yeah. Natasha might have a lead, invited me to come with her.” He tried to act as nonchalant as possible.

“May I accompany you two?”

Steve tried to hide the nerves that sparked through his body. He respected T’Challa, but he was extremely intimidated. He wanted to avoid T’Challa so that there was no chance he could get in with Steve, be able to follow him, find Bucky.

“I’ll ask Natasha when she comes.” T’Challa said after Steve never responded.

Steve wished T’Challa wasn’t dressed to go out, but he was. He was wearing a deep purple t-shirt with a black jacket and dark jeans. Perfect attire for something like this.

The elevator dinged and out stepped Natasha. She had changed into a pair of blank pants with a matching black jacket that Steve was sure she was hiding a weapon under. “Hello boys.” She smiled at them.

“Natasha.” T’Challa greeted her. “Steve tells me you’re going to talk to somebody who might know where the Soldier is.”

Steve visibly winced at hearing Bucky being referred to as “soldier”. Luckily, Natasha’s attention was on T’Challa, his on hers right back.

“I am. You want to come with us? I don’t mind, he shouldn’t either.”

“I don’t.” Steve said quickly.

“Not you.” Natasha chuckled. “My lead. He contacted me. Names Zemo or something.”

T’Challa nodded. “When do we go?”

Natasha smiled and held up her car keys. “Now.”

-

Steve, Nat, and T’Challa got out of the car at the abandoned warehouse address that Zemo gave Natasha.

When Steve was growing up, he thought bad guys meeting in warehouses was just for movies and show, but it seemed to be real. That, or this was for show. Steve tensed at the thought. He didn’t trust anybody that wanted Bucky’s head for the wrong reasons. In a rough way, that did include his team too. All but Sam, he trusted nobody else.

The car ride there had been insanely awkward too. Steve on edge the whole time, Natasha trying to talk to him about Bucky, but there was no point really- Steve wasn’t going to talk. He just told Natasha he was worried about Bucky. That statement had earned a pretty big eye roll from the King.

As they made their way to the door, Natasha pushed hair from her face. “Showtime boys.”

T’Challa pushed the doors open.

The warehouse was dark, the dingy yellow lights not doing much but feeding the ominous atmosphere that was present. There was a couple of old tables and cabinets. The place looked like it had been abandoned for years. Scanning the walls, Steve frowned slightly. The place was familiar. He couldn’t tell if the warehouse was set to replicate the army base he was envisioning, or if this _was_ the army base. There were similarities, but differences too. It totally mindfucked him.

Steve walked in on the right of Natasha, T’Challa on her left.

“Hello?” Natasha called out.

Steve blinked as more lights turned on. These ones bright white. It wasn’t fitting for this warehouse. Steve didn’t trust any of this. Turning to look at Natasha and T’Challa quickly, he hoped they were on edge too.

“Natasha, right?” The thick accent responded. Steve recognized it to be like Wanda’s- Sokovian.

The voice had come from the dark void that remained in the back of the warehouse. It was as if it was purposely unlit. Steve’s hair stood on end.

“Yes.” She responded. “Zemo?” Her tone was calm, collected.

“Baron Zemo.” He approached from the darkness, the light engulfing his figure.

He was tall, but shorter than Steve. His dark hair was styled neatly. Wearing jeans and a black jacket, he pulled his hands from his pocket. Steve prepared for a fight, but the hands came out holding nothing but the tense air.

“I see you brought friends?”

“Just people who are looking for the Soldier too.” She shook his outstretched hand. “Steve, and T’Challa.”

Steve blinked, wondering why they were using their real names. Seemed a little odd. This man was a threat.

“Pleasure to meet you both. I’ve heard a lot about both of you.” He shook both of their hands too.

The man seemed friendly, kind even. Steve wondered how he could think he knew anything about Bucky.

“So,” T’Challa started, “You are looking for the soldier as well? Do you think you have eyes on him?

Zemo shook his head. Steve felt edgy with the chilling smile that spread onto his face. “I am looking, yes. I figured who else to reach out to but,” He waved his hand in Natasha’s direction. “An ex, and Avenger.”

“An ex?” Steve asked, eyebrow raised. He couldn’t picture Natasha with anyone, well maybe Bruce or Sam, but not this guy. The guy who looked like he would slit Steve’s throat with no remorse.

“Of the solider.” Zemo clarified. 

Natasha sucked her lips in and looked at Steve. “We trained in the red room together. Not that that’s… important anymore.”

Steve nodded and tried to mask his shock, but his wide eyes didn’t go down. Bucky and Natasha. The thought made his stomach flip. Not that Natasha ever knew about the two of them. Now Steve never wanted to tell her.

He had spent his whole life in love with one man, but Bucky had moved on.

S _elfish! You’re selfish!_ Steve internally screamed at himself. Bucky wasn’t Bucky when he was with Natasha, he was the Winter Soldier. Steve had to acknowledge that they are two different people.

Yet, the mental image was still a little less than pleasant for him.

“Seemed like a good advantage she would have that would help me." Zemo gave a wicked smirk toward Natasha. "And I can help you in turn.”

“How exactly can you help?” Natasha folded her hands in front of her.

“I will keep in contact with some of my connections. Some of my… friends who suffered the wrath of the Winter Soldier.”

“Suffered what kind of wrath?” T’Challa asked.

“Well,” He motioned to a table and chairs. They all sat. “The thing is the man used to terrorize Sokovia. My home. He has killed a few of my friends, and a few friends of friends.”

“So, this is revenge to you?” Steve couldn’t keep the resentment from his voice.

“I like to call it justice.” Zemo’s lip quirked, Steve despised the look.

T’Challa nodded. “I would like to help you get justice as well.”

Natasha nodded in her agreement. Steve wondered if screaming at all three of them would be overreacting to the situation. They were _easily_ trusting this man, he had an underlying motive, Steve could feel it.

“Thank you.” Zemo put his hands on the table. “I have thought to believe he is no longer in Hydras hands.”

“Oh?” Natasha gave him a confused look.

Steve wanted to scream like a warning alarm.

“He committed this crime in street clothes.” Zemo said like it was the most obvious explanation. “Hydra, when- he would be in my town, dressed him in black.”

Steve hated the way that Zemo spoke. He shifted his tone as if he was shifting a narrative. Yet, nobody else was noticing. Steve took a deep breath, maybe he was just becoming paranoid.

He really needed to try to sleep so he could think clearly again.

“So, he just committed the terrorist attack out of his free will?” Steve asked. He had to say something. He didn’t want to raise warning alarms toward himself.

“I think.” Zemo turned to Natasha. “Which is why I reached out to you.” He smiled. “I heard Avengers were tracking Hydra and I, I just feel he is not with them.”

Natasha nodded; lips pursed. “Well, I’ll keep what you said in mind. But we are still looking into Hydra, they did make him after all.”

T’Challa spoke up, “It is important that anybody connected to him be found.”

Steve tensed, but nodded his agreement.

“Whatever I can do, or anything else I find, I will share.” Zemo looked at Steve when he said it. “What are you doing to try to find him?”

Steve’s skin crawled.

“We uh,” He rung his hands together.

“We have eyes everywhere.” Natasha said, giving a little away but not enough. If she wouldn’t have spoken up, Steve might have just told Zemo they had a fuck ton of cameras in every city.

Not that any of them mattered.

Zemo didn’t look convinced but cleared his face of the emotion. “Do keep in touch yes?”

Steve felt a wave of relief that Zemo was ending this interaction. Zemo was one of those leads who didn’t want to have drawn out conversations. He was straight to the point. He wanted an in to find Bucky that would guarantee Bucky- and the Avengers were that.

Natasha rose, followed by T’Challa and Steve. “Of course.”

T’Challa handed a card to Zemo. “Call this number if you discover anything. You and I, we will stay in touch as well.”

Zemo looked at the card and slid it into his pocket. “Thank you.” He shook each of their hands again.

Steve was unnerved when Zemo gripped Steve’s hand much tighter than he had at the beginning. “Talk soon, _Captain_.”

\--

It was getting dark out when Bucky walked out to his firepit with his dinner. He had decided on egg noodles and chicken breast. He figured a dinner of chip sandwiches again wasn’t the best for him. He would have to ask Steve if he also shoved chips into his sandwiches.

As he set down the food in his chair and set up a fire, he heard the familiar sound of tires coming up the gravel dirt driveway. He knew it was only going to be Sam. Steve got sucked into something else. He didn’t tell Bucky much about what it was, which only slightly concerned him. Bucky was upset Steve wouldn’t be coming, but he knew he shouldn’t be. Steve had a life outside of him, as he should. Bucky just wished he also got a life outside of Steve.

As Bucky situated himself in his chair with his plate he watched as Sam got out of the car and reached across the seat to grab a big black bag.

“Hey!” Sam waved as he started walking over.

Bucky gave a little nod, he wasn’t sure how he could act, or should act, in front of Sam yet. “I uh, I made you food too.” Bucky looked down at his plate. When he was cooking, he started to feel guilty at the thought of eating when Sam was here, especially if Sam didn’t have food. He figured he would at least make him some and offer.

“Wow.” Sam said as he set the bag down next to Bucky’s chair. “Thank you. I’ll go grab it and a chair.”

Bucky felt relief flood him at Sam’s eagerness to eat. He did the right thing.

Sam disappeared into the house and came back out with his plate in one hand, a cup of water balanced in his arm, and carrying a chair from the deck over to Bucky.

After he set the chair up and sat by Bucky, he took a bite of the chicken first thing. “Damn, this is actually good.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile, just a small one. He didn’t mind a compliment. “Thanks. Steve gave me a bunch of seasonings, so I just throw a bunch on and hope it tastes okay.”

Sam laughed. “Hey, that’s one way to do it.” He took another bite.

They sat together in comfortable silence, which shocked Bucky. He was thankful that it wasn’t awkward. He mentally applauded himself for having made Sam food. That seemed to be the right call to make it less awkward.

Bucky set his empty plate down next to him and picked up the bookbag. “This the stuff?”

Sam nodded around a mouthful of egg noodles. Swallowing, he responded, “Yeah. Steve apologizes it took ‘too long’. We had to do some rewiring.”

Bucky pulled one from the box and examined it. “I see. I did some wire work with Hydra. I could’ve helped.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You still can. We can double check everything after we set it up.” He glanced back at the safe house. “You have any special areas you want a camera? Or don’t?”

Bucky shook his head. “Well, maybe not my bedroom.”

Sam frowned, forking up a piece of his chicken. “Steve insisted any room you use a lot, a camera should be.”

“Of course, he did.” Bucky couldn’t help but scoff. But he understood, Steve just wanted to protect him.

“It’s all your choice though.” Sam wiped his mouth. “Really, Steve will understand if you say no or suddenly change your mind.”

“No, it’s alright.” Bucky couldn’t help the smirk playing on his lips as he said, “I could probably ask to surveillance him like he is me and he’d say yes no questions asked.”

“Right.” Sam laughed. Scooping up egg noodles, he added, “He’s the only one who will see your bedroom cameras if it makes you feel better. You’ll still have privacy. Believe me, I don’t really want an eyeful of Barnes ass.”

Bucky barked out a laugh. “Yeah and Steve does?” He joked but couldn’t keep the hopeful feeling from his voice. He instantly regretted it with the way Sam’s head whipped to look at him.

“You want him to want to?”

“What?” Bucky said with faux innocence.

Sam raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. He ate his last bite of food, turning his head slowly back to the fire, confusion etched on his features.

Bucky had been spending so much time alone, allowing himself to feel and express his feelings to himself. Now they've slipped through his fingers and into the palms of Sam's hands. He just hoped Sam wouldn't take anything he said too seriously. He wasn't sure how much he could trust Sam.

“You ready to set these up? I can help.” Bucky picked up the bag of cameras.

Sam nodded. “Let’s do it.”

And that’s what they did. They put a camera at the front door, the back door, both sides of the house, one in the kitchen that pointed out to the living room, one in Bucky’s room, and one to spare. Bucky and Sam both weren’t sure where they wanted to put it yet.

They had been having fun banter back and forth while putting up the cameras. Bucky started to kind of like Sam. Sam just gave off an air to him that he cared, but he wouldn’t hesitate to pin Bucky down if he tried to pull anything. Bucky had to admire that; it was how Bucky felt too.

Sam had suggested they take a break and think about where to put the last camera. Now they sat by the fire. Bucky watched the flames dance and flutter, glowing his skin from a distance as he stared.

Biting his lip, Bucky said softly, “Thanks for doing this with Steve.”

Sam turned his attention to Bucky, a smile forming on his lips. “Of course. Thanks for not trying to choke me with a wire.” He joked.

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. “There’s still one more camera.” He held it up with his metal hand, the wires dangling from it. The fire made the metal of his fingers sparkle on its gentle grip of the camera.

“Ha!” Sam shook his head. “Steve has access to us now, he could literally witness the murder.”

“Yeah, that would stop me.” Bucky deadpanned.

“Your humor is twisted.”

“So is yours.” Bucky quipped.

Sam shrugged, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Life’ll do that to you.”

Bucky nodded in agreement. Life had torn Bucky apart piece by piece, both figuratively and literally. He felt that gave him the right to be able to joke with somebody who could take it. He would never let the jokes get too out of hand, but a little banter never hurt anybody, right?

“So, Barnes,” Sam started but Bucky turned to him.

Cutting Sam off, he asked, “Why don’t you just call me Bucky?”

Sam tilted his head and shrugged. “Honestly, seems like Steve’s thing.” When Bucky gave him an expectant look, he continued. “Just personal to you two is all.”

“He gave me the nickname; did you know that?”

Sam shook his head. “He never told me actually.”

Bucky smiled at the memory that started to return to his brain. “Yeah, he was sketching and just blurted it out. He was real proud of it. Called me it forever clearly.”

Sam nodded, smiling. “He even gave your nickname a nickname.”

Bucky laughed, smiling too. “Yeah, I swear Steve forgets my real name is James.”

After his name slipped his lips, his flesh hand instinctively gripped his dog tags. He was still grappling with his identity. He knew he was James Buchanan Barnes; he was Bucky. But sometimes, the Soldier would come to the forefront of his mind and remind him that no matter who he was, he would always be _him_ too.

“He’ll only call you James if you make him mad.” Sam teased, pulling Bucky from his thoughts and catapulting him into another.

_Bucky stared up at the horror in Steve’s warm blue eyes as he walked into the apartment. Bucky wasn’t the only one staring, the brunette woman underneath him was too._

_Steve just gaped. “I, uh, I’ll come back later.” He rushed out; the door slamming shut behind him._

_Bucky looked down at the brunette he was linked to, feeling his erection soften at rapid speed._

_He had never ushered a girl out so quickly. He just apologized profusely, that he needed to find his roommate. She was mad they weren’t finishing, not that that part bothered Bucky- he’d rather spend the rest of his sexual days finishing with Steve. Besides, it was a total mood killer Steve coming back, he wasn’t sure how the girl didn’t feel that way too._

_Bucky paced the living room while he waited for Steve to come back. He was so worried, so mad at himself. Their whole relationship being careful not to see one another with somebody else,_ especially _like that, and here Bucky fucked it up._

_After three hours, but what felt like a lifetime, Steve came home._

_"Stevie!” Bucky went to wrap him up in his arms, ready to apologize. However, Steve sidestepped, shaking his head._

_“You didn’t leave a warning.” Steve said, his voice cracking with hurt. “You wanted me to see?”_

_“What? No!” Bucky threw his arms up. “Why would I want you to see that?”_

_Steve shrugged, wiping the tears hastily from his eyes before they could fall._

_"She came back here, and one thing led to another. She was never supposed to stay, we were never supposed to do anything.”_

_Steve looked up at Bucky and the look shot daggers straight through Bucky’s heart._

_“Stevie Please-”_

_"Don’t_ James _.” Steve spit out with venom. “I can’t unsee that. Don’t you get that?” Steve stared Bucky down. “It’s one thing to know it happens, but it’s another to see it and_ really _know.”_

_Bucky nodded, looking down at his feet. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered. “Steve, I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise. You won’t have to see anything like that again.”_

_Steve nodded, stepping closer to Bucky. “It’s hard.” He whispered, letting a tear fall._

_Bucky let a tear fall from his own stormy eyes as he reached out, wiping the tear from Steve’s. “I know, doll.” He breathed and just pulled Steve to his chest._

_Steve’s fingers instantly clutched the fabric of Bucky’s button down. “I just love you more than I should.” Steve whispered into Bucky’s chest. He could feel the warm tears on his shirt now._

_"No, you don’t.” Bucky leaned his chin on top of Steve’s head. “You love me like you should be allowed to love me. Just like I love you.”_

Bucky blinked out of the memory, his cheeks slightly wet and Sam’s hand reached out toward him, but not touching him. _Smart_ , Bucky thought. Bucky ran his hand down his face, the familiar throbbing in his ears spreading through his skull. He touched the side of his face, no blood. Shocking, but he felt relieved. He didn’t want Sam to see that. Not if he could be wanting to develop a friendship.

“You alright? You left me for a second.”

“I’m good.” Bucky’s tone was raspy from only a few minutes of unuse.

“Hey, sorry. Steve isn’t mad at you.” Sam said quietly. “I didn’t mean to set off anything.”

“Oh no, it’s okay.” Bucky said honestly. Because really, it was okay. It was a new memory, even if it was a downhearted one. “It gave me a memory I never had.”

He reached under his chair for the journal he knew was there. Pulling it out of the plastic bag (in case it rained), he started writing down the memory.

Sam nodded tentatively. “Well then, you’re welcome?” He tried to joke, but it was more of a question.

Bucky finished writing and slid it back into the bag. Before he could say anything, Sam asked him, “Mind if I ask what it was?”

Bucky looked at the fire. Could he tell Sam? He could just tell Sam a different memory that didn’t detail the long-lost love between Bucky and Steve. He wasn’t sure how Sam would react. Would Sam call him disgusting? Would he say there was no way it was real? Would he tell Steve?

“You don’t have to.” Sam said quickly. “Seriously, don’t worry about it. As long as you’re good.”

“Steve.” Bucky burst, eyes widening.

Sam looked at Bucky as if he grew two heads. “What about Steve?”

“He called me James when he was mad.” Bucky started, then continued tentatively, “He caught me…uh…mid sex.”

Sam barked out a laugh, but Bucky saw it. There was a flash of emotion that went over Sam’s features. It wasn’t fear, it wasn’t full hearty laughter, there was a flash of ‘oh’, like an ‘oh shit’. For once, Bucky was thankful for some of the training he got from the war and Hydra even, he was now incredibly observant.

“Yeah,” Bucky wanted to play this right, he could get answers to help him sort out his feelings. “He wasn’t happy.”

“I bet!” He laughed. “Nobody wants to see anybody mid sex.”

“People watch porn.” Bucky retorted.

“Steve, I don’t think he’s a porn kind of guy.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow and Sam choked on air.

“Is he a porn guy?” Sam gasped, but Bucky could tell it was exaggerated for Bucky’s benefit.

He wanted to know why.

Laughing, he told Sam, “He isn’t completely innocent.”

“Oh, I know, he’s told me stories.” Sam’s eyes instantly went wide. He slammed his mouth shut.

_Bingo._

“Stories?” Bucky smirked, raising an eyebrow.

Sam nodded, but stayed silent.

“Want to share any?” Bucky asked, longing slipping into his voice.

Sam looked at Bucky quickly, expectantly. “Do you have any _you_ want to share?”

Bucky groaned. He was had. Sam knew Bucky knew. Bucky knew Sam knew. So much for trying to pry new information from Sam.

“Let’s just agree we both know I love Steve.” Bucky muttered bitterly.

“Woah, back that tonka ass up, Barnes. _Love_ or _loved_.”

Bucky started laughing, light and full of nerves. Putting a hand over his face, he spoke into it, “Does it matter?

“Kind of.” Sam turned his chair to face Bucky making Bucky’s skin rise with goosebumps. He knew Sam wasn’t watching him to intimidate him, but it felt that way.

“Both. I think.” Bucky admitted, both to Sam and himself. “Fuck. Fuck yeah I, _fuck_.”

“Oh my God!” Sam exclaimed, running both hands over his head. “Are the feelings new?”

“Yeah- no. No.” Bucky looked down at his hands. Running his flesh fingers over his metal ones, he sighed. “I think I’ve always loved him. Even when I was in Hydra’s possession. I remembered Steve, but the small Steve.” He turned his attention to Sam. “That’s what love is isnt it? That in moments of pain one person can be your light, your sun?” He whispered, the hopeful sadness dripping like honey from his lips.

Sam’s jaw was dropped, his eyes wide. “That-wow. Yes. I would say so.”

“Are you in love?” Bucky asked.

He was sharing, he wanted Sam to too. It would reveal to Bucky if Sam was feeling the pull of friendship between them like he was.

Bucky still wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Sam shook his head. “No. I’ve never been in love, not like you two.” Sam said quietly.

Bucky nodded and looked at the fire. “I tried not to. I mean, I would write the memories down of us in the past like, kissing and uh… stuff.” He felt his face heating. “But I’d try to burn what I wrote like it would burn the feelings, but they- I don’t know they’re like _ingrained_ in me.”

Sam looked at Bucky. “Hey man, that’s okay.” He gave Bucky a small smile. “Thanks for telling me that. I can tell it isn’t easy.”

He had just told Sam a whole lot, but he didn’t want the conversation to go any further than that. Sam knew, Bucky officially knew. The feeling was mystifying within Bucky’s whole body.

Bucky scoffed. “Tell anyone I let you see my soft side and I-”

“You’ll what, loverboy?” Sam smirked, teasing Bucky.

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. “You know, you aren’t too bad.” He reluctantly admitted.

“You aren’t too bad yourself for a crazy ex-terminator.”

“And the moments ruined.” Bucky shook his head. “Was so nice.”

“Hey, I said ex!” Sam defended himself.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Both of them watched the fire, the flames flicking and licking the cool night air.

Bucky loved Steve. Bucky _loves_ Steve. The thought repeated itself over and over in his head.

“The developments you’ve made in opening up and expressing yourself since you first got here are incredible.” Sam said quietly, sincerely. “You’re doing a great job, Bucky. You should be proud.”

Something blossomed within Bucky. It bubbled and bloomed and spread throughout his whole body. In this moment he realized Sam was right, the progress he was making was real. It wasn’t in his head. He could have both bad days and good days and still be making progress. He was moving forward, moving on. Other people saw it. Bucky just needed to stop being so hard on himself.

He was allowed to be happy, be sad, be in love and be confused. He was finding himself again. Reaching into his grave to bring the fallen parts of himself back to life.

And in that moment, Bucky laughed. A laugh that was genuine, that reminded him of his memories. Because Sam was right- he _should_ be proud of himself.

And he was.


	8. Chapter 7

_Buzz, Buzz, Buzz, Buzzzz. Buzz, Buzz, Buzz, Buzzzz._

Bucky groaned, opening his eyes, and immediately snapping them closed. The sun shone too brightly right down on both him and Sam.

The two of them had fallen asleep outside in their less than comfortable lawn chairs. They had just been talking, telling stories to each other before sleep wrapped them both up.

The fire was long gone but still smoldered.

_Buzz, Buzz, Buzz, Buzzzz. Buzz, Buzz, Buzz, Buzzzz._

Bucky wiped at his face. Sitting up, his body ached from the uncomfortable position he had fallen asleep in. Leaning his back backward, he used his flesh arm to shake Sam. He knew it wasn’t his own phone vibrating, he had left it on the charger when they were setting up cameras.

Sam shifted; his eyes closed.

“Sam.” Bucky hissed.

He wanted to reach into Sam’s pockets, but he didn’t want to startle Sam. But the phone _wouldn’t_ stop.

“Fuckin’ wake up.” Bucky groaned, shoving him harder with his flesh hand. He self-reflected that next time he needed to wake up Sam, he would use the force of his metal arm.

Sam opened his eyes groggily. “Woah bright.” He covered them with his left hand. “Answer your phone, Cyborg.”

Bucky scoffed. “It’s your phone.” He gestured toward Sam’s pocket.

“Oh.” Sam lazily reached for it, still half asleep. 

Bucky shook his head and settled back into his lawn chair. “Fuckin’ bird brain.” He muttered.

“Yeah, I heard that.” He looked down at it. “Woops.” Sam slid to answer the phone. “Hi there, Cap.”

\--

Steve breathed a sigh of relief down the phone. “Jesus Sam! Are you alright?”

Sam chuckled, shuffling coming from the other side of the phone. “Yeah.” He yawned. “I was just sleeping.”

“Did you stay at Bucky’s?”

“Technically, it’s my safehouse.” Sam teased.

“I’m going to actually run away.” Bucky joked in the background. “Hey!” He heard Bucky interject a beat later. 

“It’s Steve. He’ll believe you’d run away, dipshit.”

Steve released his breath. At least he knew where Sam was, and Bucky was with him. And they were safe and… getting along. They were joking with each other. Steve smiled small, leaning back against his kitchen counter. His two best friends, arguably one best friend and love of his life, were coming together. Steve hoped it would last beyond today.

The whole morning, he had been worried because Sam had never come home. It wasn’t like he thought that Bucky would do anything to Sam. It was more the fear that _somebody_ got to them. After the meeting with Zemo, Steve felt even more on edge. Sam not coming home had put him even more so.

But everything was okay. Steve felt a small ripple of relief.

_For now._ Steve bitterly thought, replacing relief with overwhelming concern once more. He wanted a break; he just wanted this all to be over. But after meeting with Zemo, Steve knew this was only the beginning.

Steve listened to them banter through the phone. “Sam-”

“Tell Steve hey!”

“No.” Sam replied sassily to Bucky.

“Well, I find that rude of you.” Bucky retorted with equal sass. It reminded Steve of when they were younger, and Bucky would sass Steve for trying to fight a man triple his size for whatever dumb shit the man might have been doing.

Steve couldn't believe how much Bucky's banter with Sam was like the Bucky he knew his whole life. The progress Bucky had been making, and was continuing to make, was mind blowing. Steve didn't think he could be prouder.

“What’s rude is you calling me bird brain.”

“Sam-” Steve tried again.

“Yeah, well, you weren’t waking up.”

“That’s because I slept in a nasty, old lawn chair of yours.”

“Oh, oh no!” Bucky exclaimed. “It’s _your_ chair, _your_ safe house.”

“Don’t even go there you robot.”

“Sam!” Steve all but yelled into the phone.

“Sorry Cap!” Sam rushed, Bucky chuckling lowly in the background. “Hey! How was the lead with Natasha?”

Steve sighed. Looking down at his bare feet, he moved one over the other. He would keep the conversation light. He didn’t want to tell Bucky too much if anything to keep Bucky safe and not scare him. But he couldn’t keep anything from Bucky, he had never been able to. How could he possible start now?

Steve’s other hand curled into a small first against the countertop. “Could you put it on speaker?”

“You’re on.” Sam said a beat later.

“So, the guy took us to this warehouse, but things were just off. Which makes sense.” Steve chuckled lightly to himself. He was explaining this horribly, not on purpose. His nerves were just on fire. “I want to take a look at it, but I need you to come with me.”

“He can’t see you nod.” He heard Bucky tell Sam.

“Shut up.” Sam quipped, then to Steve, “I can head home now, and we can go.”

“Hey Steve,” Bucky said, causing Steve to smile on the other end of the line just hearing his voice. “What was the guy’s name?”

Steve held his breath. He wanted to tell Bucky that, he really did. He _trusted_ Bucky. Yet, there was this voice in his head wondering if it was a good idea. Steve knew that Zemo was somebody not to trust. He didn’t want to scare Bucky with information.

Worse, didn’t want to put Bucky in jeopardy more than he already was.

But there was the what if of it all. Bucky could know who the man was and be able to give answers. This could lead them to who really blew up the United Nations and killed T’Challa’s father. Maybe they could actually take Bucky out of the safe house because he would be innocent.

Well, not fully innocent, but hopefully innocent enough to work something out.

“Was he that bad?” Sam asked, pulling Steve from his thoughts.

“He’s… odd. His name,” Steve paused a beat, “Baron Zemo.”

_Silence_.

Both ends remained silent.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut. Why did Sam not even reply to him? Did Bucky react? Was Bucky alright? Was Sam alright? Just saying the name and getting this reaction confirmed the fear within Steve was justified.

The silence became too loud, smothering Steve. He felt the thin fingers of hush wrap around his throat, his chest. It consumed him. It quieted him further. He couldn’t talk, not until somebody else filled the space with their voice. He was put on mute by the hands of silence. 

Then, Sam.

“Woah, hey, it’s okay. It’s alright, man.”

Steve just stood there in his kitchen, leaning against the counter, still gripping it with his one fist. The hushing hand was pressed further into his throat. Sam wasn't talking to him but to Bucky. What happened to Bucky? He couldn't speak, he couldn't ask what was going on. The fear he had was confirmed and now he was paying to price for telling not only Sam, but Bucky too.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice was breathy, laced with terror.

And unpleasant as it all was, Steve did the _one_ _thing_ he _didn’t_ want to do- put his fear right into Bucky.

“You okay?” Steve all but croaked. The silent hand releasing him harshly.

If the hand were real, Steve would have fallen to his knees. He had been at mercy to the silent air of distress.

Releasing the counter, he wiped across his face harshly. This was bad. Zemo was somebody that shouldn’t be near the Avengers. Let alone, working with them.

“You can’t see him again.” Bucky’s voice wavered. “You can’t, Steve. Where did he take you?”

Steve frowned. “The warehouse-”

“I _need_ to see it.”

“Is that a good idea?” Sam asked.

“ _Yes_.” Bucky’s voice fizzled.

Steve looked straight ahead out his window of the tower through the frame of his fingers. Underneath his beautiful city view, there were people out and about. That was the harsh part of reality. The people. Some were like Steve, caring and wanting a world of peace. But some were like Zemo, wanting destruction and torture. People don’t know where each lurk, who they hide within. But Steve knew that it lurked within Zemo and he needed to do something about it. And soon.

Because he had encountered one of the worst of any person. He could tell because of the terror Zemo instilled into Bucky’s voice with nothing but the drop of his name.

“Buck, who is he?” Steve asked calmy. He was all but calm, but he had to be strong. Not for himself anymore, but for Bucky.

There was a pause, gentle breathing from the other end of the line pulsed in Steve's ear. His enhanced hearing told him that it was Sam's. Listening closer, he could hear the harsh, uneven breaths of Bucky. He felt the silent hand come back, this time gripping around his heart rather than his throat.

“He was a handler of mine.” Bucky said quietly. “He’s looking for me. Means Hydra is too.”

“We won’t let him get to you.” Sam said.

“He’s with Steve!” Bucky cried. “They’re _that_ close to finding me!”

Steve wished he were with Bucky right now. He wanted to wrap Bucky up in his arms, kiss his forehead and tell him everything would be okay. That he was going to protect Bucky with every ounce of his being.

“Steve,” Sam said calmly. “I’m going to come home. And… I’m bringing Bucky.”

“What?” Bucky gasped, “Are you crazy?”

“Maybe.” Sam replied honestly. “I’ll come back, and I’ll park near the tower. You just need to come out and get in my car. We’ll go to the warehouse from there.”

Steve took a deep breath. There was no point in arguing, no matter how much he was worried about the idea of Bucky entering back into New York. Somebody could see him through the windows unless Sam shoved Bucky’s body in the trunk. If the situation would have been different, Steve might have laughed at his own ridiculous thought. But the situation was heavy, and Steve was so beyond tired he was becoming delirious in his own mind.

Pulling himself back to what was important, he figured Sam bringing Bucky now was because it was most time efficient. That didn’t mean he liked it.

“You have to keep him safe.” Steve sighed. “If anybody sees him, it’s over for him. Us too.” He added the last part quietly.

“I know. He’ll be fine, Cap.” Sam reassured.

“Just, make sure nobody can see him in your car.” Steve breathed out.

“It’ll be fine.” Sam reassured Steve, this time with a bit more irritation in his tone. “Stay by your phone. I’ll call you when I get there.”

-

Steve got the call that they were a block away from the tower about an hour later. Stopping his pacing, he grabbed his phone and started the jog down to the ground floor.

“Hi there, Captain!” He heard the young voice of Peter Parker from above him.

Steve didn’t have time for this kid. He liked Peter, he did. But the kid was young and _talkative_. The last thing Steve had time for was that.

“Hi, Kid.” Steve replied, continuing down the stairs.

He heard the steps of Peter catch up to him. “Where you off to?” He asked, now next to Steve.

“I’m going out. Need to clear my head.” Steve lied quickly. Peter was smart, but hopefully not being extra observant of the way Steve’s voice sounded hesitant.

“Cool.” Peter turned with Steve down the next flight of stairs. “I was just going down to the basement. I hide spider fluid down there.”

Steve paused his pace for a fraction of a second before continuing. “Spider… fluid?”

“Yeah!” Peter laughed. “It’s for my webs. I make some of my own still, but since Mr. Stark insists that I don’t have to, I hide what I make in the basement.”

“That’s neat.” Steve replied, unsure of what else to say. This conversation was going over his head.

It seemed to please Peter though, continuing with his story of web fluid. “Yeah, it is! Except, I’m sure Mr. Stark probably has video surveillance of me making it but, how often does he check that you know?” He shrugged.

Steve nodded; oh, he knew the feeling all too well of hiding something from Tony. “Yeah, hopefully not a lot.”

Once at the bottom of the landing, Steve went to press open the doors with a quick goodbye to Peter. Peter, reaching a hand toward Steve, stopped him.

“I’m sorry about your friend. What they want to do to him.” Peter said quietly, glancing around as he spoke. “I hope they never find him.”

Steve felt his eyes well with tears. This was the first person in the tower besides Sam that was showing any _real_ care toward Steve about the situation. Real care really for the first time besides Sam and Natasha. He pulled Peter into his arms, hugging him.

Peter chuckled against Steve, pulling away with a small smile. “You’re a good man. I’m sure the Winter Soldier is too, somewhere in there.”

“Thank you, Peter.” Steve said softly. “I appreciate it.”

Peter nodded, “See ya!” He gave a quick wave and then continued on his journey down to the basement.

As Steve walked out of the building, he scanned for Sam’s car. He couldn’t get the words out of his head that Peter had told him.

_“I hope they never find him.”_

Steve couldn’t agree more.

Finally seeing Sam’s car, his eyes scanned it for a sign of Bucky. He didn’t see Bucky at all.

_Thank God._ Steve thought.

Approaching it and grabbing the passenger seat door handle, he got in and was hit with the smell of greasy fast food.

“Hey.” Sam greeted, pulling out of the spot as Steve buckled. “Fries in the bag for you. Burger too if you want it, if not the vacuum in the back seat will.”

Steve turned around and saw Bucky lounging in the backseat eating fries. Bucky waved lazily.

“I was hungry.” He blushed so sweetly.

Steve smiled. “You can have it.” He handed the food back to Bucky. “I had breakfast with Wanda this morning.”

“Who’s Wanda?” Bucky asked so quickly that Sam barked out a laugh.

Steve chuckled, but it was airy. His heart skipped a beat with how quick Bucky asked. Why did Bucky care? Was Bucky wondering because he was scared, or wondering because there were feelings? Was Steve just looking too deep into this because he still loved Bucky and was exhausted?

Steve sighed to himself, believing the last one to be the most likely answer.

“A friend of mine and Sam’s.” Steve shrugged.

Bucky nodded, unwrapping the sandwich with a deeper blush flooding his pale features. “Cool.”

“Speaking of,” Steve turned to face the road. He didn’t want to keep staring at Bucky, but for Bucky’s benefit. “Take a left at the next turn.” He told Sam before continuing. “Buck, do you know who Natasha is?”

“You’ve told me about her before I think.” Bucky responded through a mouthful of food. “Why?”

“She knows you.”

Sam quirked a brow up over his sunglasses. “Not sure if that’s a good thing, my man.”

“What does she look like?” Bucky asked.

“Red hair, pale skin, attractive.” Sam stated simply.

“And there’s _nothing_ between you two.” Steve joked with Sam.

Sam shook his head, smiling. “I’m just stating the obvious for him.”

Bucky stayed quiet. Steve looked back to make sure he was alright as Bucky rustled with his bag of fries.

“I knew a Natalia who matches that description.” Bucky shrugged.

Steve watched Bucky’s body language; he was hiding something. Maybe he remembered her, their romance.

“That’s her!” Sam exclaimed.

Bucky bit his lip. “What uh, what about her?”

“Nothing.” Steve shrugged. “She just knew you.”

He didn’t want to just full on mention the relationship that Natasha and Zemo said they used to have. He didn’t want to anger Bucky if Bucky didn’t remember, nor did he want to trigger something within Bucky. He could read Bucky’s body language, but he wasn’t going to force Bucky to say anything.

“You two friends or something?” Sam asked Bucky, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

“Or something.” Bucky said, feigning nonchalance.

Taking a leap, Steve said, “Yeah she didn’t say much either.”

Bucky breathed in deep through his nose. “There wasn’t much to us.”

“You had something with Natasha?” Sam gasped, taking the left and continuing forward down the street. “Do I take the right there?”

“Yeah.” Steve replied to Sam.

“It uh, I didn’t. Technically, the Soldier did.” Bucky quipped.

“Oh, this is _gold_.” Sam teased Bucky.

Steve couldn’t halt the smile creeping onto his lips. He was glad to see them getting along. It happened so fast, but both Sam and Bucky had such fantastic personalities that Steve wasn’t _that_ surprised. Hydra may have tried to strip Bucky from his body, but Bucky was too strong. That personality was too feisty to leave that body.

“Oh hush.” Bucky threw a fry at Sam.

“Hey, I’m driving! Well, actually, I’ll take you throwing a fry than ripping my steering wheel away.”

“Don’t stop and I might.”

Steve laughed. “It’s not a big deal, Buck.” A lie. Steve couldn’t even hide it from his voice. Wincing, he added, “I just found out and was surprised is all. I didn’t know you two even knew each other.”

“So, she did tell you more than me?” Bucky asked, his tone not harsh but not gentle either.

Steve frowned. “She just said it was a relationship. Zemo was the one who brought it up.” He admitted.

Steve felt a pang of guilt to his gut. Not only had he already put fear into Bucky today, but now he put this memory back into Bucky that didn’t seem to be provoking any happiness. This was the complete opposite of what he wanted.

Bucky took a sip of his drink, his eyes cast down. “It never meant anything.” He said quietly. “Soldier and I never got along anyway.”

Steve nodded somberly. “I know. You two aren’t the same.”

“We’re different.” Bucky chewed harshly on his bottom lip. Steve watched it for a second, the deep red taking over the pink of Bucky’s lips.

Again, Steve nodded, “I know. It’s not an issue Bucky.”

“No, I mean, like,” Bucky shoved a handful of fries into his mouth. Chewing slowly as if trying to buy some time to gather his words. He swallowed and said. “We have different preferences.”

Steve’s chest fluttered. What did that mean? It could mean _anything_. He didn’t want to assume anything, but there were so many emotions soaring through him. Bucky could still have feelings for Steve. He could prefer to be with a man, be with Steve. Or he could mean preferences on looks. Steve frowned slightly at how that could have been the possibility as well. Bucky was only attracted to brunette women growing up. Steve knew that reason already though.

_“Stevie!” Bucky sing-songed through their shared apartment. “Where are you my doll?”_

_Steve poked his head out from the kitchen. He was rinsing the dishes from his dinner that he had alone because Bucky was on a date. A date that he thought would last much longer than it did._

_“You’re back early.” Steve dried a plate and put it into the cupboard._

_“Well,” Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve and sat him atop the counter, placing himself between his legs. “I missed my favorite blonde.”_

_Steve blushed, putting his arms around Bucky. Raising an eyebrow, he asked, “She had blonde hair.”_

_It was odd for Bucky to go out with blondes. Steve never knew why Bucky only ever went for women who were brunette, or occasionally red heads. He had pondered if it had something to do with himself, but it always led him down a darker thought process._

_Maybe Bucky wasn't attracted to blondes?_

_And what a shame that was for Steve to think. It only made him wonder if Bucky would eventually tire and leave him, since, after all, he wasn't into blondes._

_Bucky nodded, his lips twitching down. “First- and last- time I do that.” He pushed some of Steve’s hair from his forehead. “I see a blonde and all I see is you. Can’t have that because then I’m not bein’ fair to the girl, or to you.” He placed a kiss on Steve’s nose. “Can’t accidently call her my Steviedoll either.” He joked._

_Steve felt his heart flutter within his small chest. Bucky loved him so much, almost too much. Love to the point Steve's face was what Bucky saw when he went out. He felt a sense of pride blossom in his chest. He was Bucky's wholeheartedly._

_“Oh, a tragedy it would be.” Steve deadpanned._

_“You know punk, you’re a fiery one.”_

_Smirking, Steve winked. “Gonna to do anything about it?”_

_Bucky lifted Steve up, holding him flush against his body. “Why don’t we find out.”_

“Dude.” Sam’s voice cut through Steve’s memory. It sounded icy, mad.

“What?” Steve turned his head toward Sam.

“Wow.” Sam shook his head, radiating disappointment.

“Please.” Bucky choked out into the tense silence.

Steve whipped his head around and looked at Bucky. The vulnerability in his tone cut deep into Steve. His beautiful Bucky who was crying now. His blue eyes were storming, rain pooling in his ocean eyes and spilling down, like waves on sand.

Why was he crying?

“Say something.” Bucky whispered.

“What-?”

Bucky shook his head, turning to look out the window. Hastily, he used his metal arm to wipe at his eyes, wincing when Steve assumed the metal plating pinched his soft skin.

Steve turned to Sam eyes pleading. “What just happened?”

Sam pulled over. Turning his attention to Steve, he pursed his lips. “Sort this,” He pointed at Bucky. “The fuck out. I thought you _wanted_ this.” He got out of the car and shut the door. He moved a few steps away from the car, but close enough that if anything happened, they could all get back together.

“Buck-”

“I’m sorry.” Bucky whimpered.

“I- Bucky, why are you sorry? Steve paused before adding, “I don’t know why you’re crying. I spaced out and then Sam was mad, and now you’re crying.”

“You,” Bucky sniffled and sat up straighter. “You didn’t hear what I said?”

Steve shook his head, his heart clenching. He hadn’t even zoned out that long. What could he have possibly missed?

“I said I preferred you over her.” Bucky said quietly, with no confidence in his voice at all.

_Oh._

Steve felt the world stop. His view narrowed in on Bucky, only Bucky. There was nobody else. It was just them.

Steve unbuckled and got on his knees on his seat, leaning himself into the backseat. Using his left hand for support, he reached his right hand out to cup Bucky’s cheek. His thumb skimmed underneath Bucky’s eye, catching the warm tears.

“You don’t understand how happy that makes me.” Steve breathed.

Bucky started rambling. “You didn’t say anything I,” He blinked more tears, his eyelashes clumped with them. “I didn’t think you felt that way and I told Sam and he seemed to make it seem like you did and I-Nhmp!”

Steve both silenced and shocked Bucky with a kiss.

Bucky’s lips moved against and with Steve’s just like they had during their first kiss all of those years ago. Bucky’s lips were still soft, but rougher now. There was more intensity, a passion that went deeper than any kiss they had shared before.

When Steve pulled back slowly, Bucky’s lips followed, refusing to leave their lock. Steve couldn’t help but chuckle.

Breathing shallowly, Steve pushed their foreheads together.

“I will always feel this way.” Steve whispered, leaning up to use his other hand to lace the fingers with Bucky’s cool, metal ones. “I will always love you.”

Bucky let out a small whimper. “I…think I love you.” It came out hushed, afraid. Steve had never heard Bucky so vulnerable.

“You don’t have to say it back yet, Buck. People don’t fall in love at the same time.”

Bucky nodded. “Well, I think I have always loved you.” He chuckled. Pushing his head into Steve’s hand, he sighed. “But I think I love you now again, still. I want to find out.”

Steve nodded. “And I’ll be here the whole time you do.”

“Why?” Bucky asked.

Steve's brows furrowed. "I, because I love you?" He couldn't keep the confusion from his voice. He wasn't sure how to respond either. He was two seconds away from telling Bucky that he was _literally_ on his knees professing love to the only love he has ever known. He would never dream of leaving Bucky alone ever again.

Steve bit his lip. He left Bucky alone once when he fell off of that train, he would never do it again. He would never allow Bucky to suffer again. That was why he was going these extreme lengths, going against the government and his friends. He was in love, undeniable love that swallowed him.

Bucky rolled his lips in, suppressing a smile. “Is it maybe because you’re with me till the end of the line?”

Steve’s lips parted and his eyes widened. Bucky _remembered_. He remembered the line they said to each other when an “I love you” said in public would have gotten them both socked. He remembered the line that Bucky told Steve that day before he fell to his persecution. Bucky remembered, and Steve couldn’t stop the emotion that bubbled through him. It was as if the line was the bottle opener to a champagne bottle hidden within Steve’s heart.

Bucky smiled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I remembered after you told me- the soldier- it.” He admitted. “I just needed to sort myself out before I said it.”

Steve smiled, pressing another kiss to Bucky’s swollen lips. “You’re perfect.” He breathed.

Bucky’s eyes softened, the tears subsiding. “You still love me, think I’m perfect, after everything I’ve done?”

Steve heard his heart shatter in his own ears. “It was never you.” He said definitively.

“It was these hands.” Bucky held them up in front of Steve. “They killed people. Killed St- so many people.”

Steve’s brows furrowed. Bucky was going to admit to something but stopped. He wanted to know, but the pain in his chest at hearing Bucky like this wouldn’t allow him to. He wanted Bucky to realize how amazing he was. That his hands used to belong to two people, but now they only belong to one. It would take time still, but Steve would use the rest of his time throughout the whole universe to convince Bucky that he was perfect.

“They belonged to the Soldier once.” Steve started, folding both of Bucky’s hands into his own. “You owned them. Then, the Soldier owned your body, your brain, your hands.” Steve leaned down and kissed them. “But now he doesn’t. Now you own your hands again.” Leaning forward, he placed a small kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “You own your brain again too.”

Bucky sniffled, his bottom lip quivering. “Thank you.” He whispered.

He leaned down and kissed Bucky’s left shoulder. "You own your body again too." He whispered against the soft expanse of skin.

Bucky looked at Steve, then to the shiny metal of his arm. "It's..." He didn't finish, just closed his eyes and sucked in his bottom lip.

Steve's eyes filled with tears. Bucky was so hurt, so insecure, so damaged. He was almost stunned to see Bucky like this. This level of vulnerability, insecurity. It was new, it was shattering Steve like a glass bottle. "The scars are yours. They aren’t allowed to be the Soldiers. They’re yours, to show _your_ fight, _your_ strength.

Bucky pulled his hands gently from Steve’s. Now, Bucky took Steve’s hands into his own, one in each. He closed his eyes as he slowly trailed Steve’s hands to either side of his head. He pressed them down, moving Steve’s hands until Steve felt the rectangular scars on either side of his head.

Steve gently traced the raised, bubbled skin that burrowed itself underneath Bucky’s soft hair. Steve remembered the file, the description of a chair that would fry his brain. Steve felt bile rise in his throat realizing that this was the aftermath of the torture machine.

“These are the hardest ones.” Bucky’s voice was pained.

Steve went to remove his fingers, but Bucky pressed his hands over Steve’s to prevent it.

“It’s okay.” He forced a breath from his nose. “I need these to be mine too.”

Steve pressed a soft kiss to the right side of Bucky’s head, right over the scar. The skin was warm, _alive_. “These scars are the proof that you,” He moved and kissed the other side. “Are the strongest of anybody who has been in your body.”

Bucky nodded, reaching to wipe his eyes again. They sat in beautiful silence until Bucky let a chuckle pass his lips. "Wow." He sniffled. "Shit, maybe I do love you again."

Steve laughed, placing one final kiss to Bucky’s lips. “Whenever you do sweetie, I’ll be right here.”

Bucky’s eyes beamed. “Thanks, Steviedoll.”

“Is it safe?” Sam called, knocking on the window before opening the car door. “Thank God. Ya’ll sort it out?”

Bucky groaned. “Sam, now’s not the time.”

“It’s my car!” He got in. “Everything better? Don’t answer, I can literally smell the dripping sex want from you both.” He buckled himself in, exaggerating a shutter of faux disgust.

“Oh my God.” Steve blushed, covering his face.

“That’s it!” Bucky reached over Sam, gripping the steering wheel with his flesh arm. “Gimme this!”

Sam gasped, laughing and hitting Bucky’s hands away. “No, you tin man!”

“I told you to stop or I was taking it!” Bucky laughed.

“Then we can’t see the warehouse and get home!” Sam protested. Steve watched Sam as his eyes lit up. Stopping his assault on Bucky’s unrelenting grabby hands, he added, “ _Then_ I can’t get you two back to the safehouse to canoodle.”

Bucky huffed and fell back into his seat. “Fair.”

Sam barked out a laugh as Steve just shook his head in mock horror. “Canoodle? Seriously?”

“What? It doesn’t mean sex, could mean just kissing, a little touching.” Sam wiggled his eyebrows. “Can be G-rated or R-rated based on preference.”

Bucky was laughing so hard in the back seat that he let out a small snort. Sam laughed even harder.

“Alright!” Steve was burning from the intensity of his blush. “I get it!”

Sam laughed, pulling back onto the road and continued his drive with Steve’s instructions. “But really, what happened back there.”

Bucky tugged on Steve’s arm as if to get him in the backseat. “Steve hadn’t heard me. He was daydreaming.”

Sam nodded. “That makes sense.” He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I knew there had to be a reason.”

“Makes sense why you were mad at me.” Steve said. “It’s what pulled me back to reality.”

“Good.” Sam smirked. “Well, now your Cyborg has become my Cyborg because we’re pals-”

“Still up for debate.” Bucky interjected.

Sam continued as if Bucky didn’t tease him. “So, when he got all vulnerable and you just stared out the window, I wondered if I was going to need to beat your firm ass.”

Steve blushed, chuckling softly. “You had to have known I’d never ignore Bucky.”

Meanwhile, Bucky just breathed out a small, "Firm?"

“Which is why I was so surprised!” Sam looked up at Bucky through the rearview mirror, “Oh, it’s firm. Big juicy peach. Should see it in the suit.”

Steve shook his head, wondering if the bottom of the car would give out and swallow him down into a world where he wasn’t so embarrassed. “I think he gets it Sam.”

“No.” Bucky shook his head, eyes wide in playfulness. “I don’t. I think I need to see it in the suit. After all, peaches have always been my favorite.

Sam’s jaw dropped. “I shouldn’t be so surprised.”

Bucky barked out a laugh and shifted around in the backseat. Steve felt Bucky’s warm head as it came to rest against the side of Steve’s arm.

“Don’t play into Sam.” Steve pressed a kissed to Bucky’s head. “He’s out to get me.”

“I just think Sam is bringing up some valid points for the first time ever.”

“First?” Sam sputtered. “I _only_ have valid points.”

They sat there in quietude for a few minutes. Bucky’s breathing was gentle against Steve’s arm as he looked out the window. “This drive is pretty.” Bucky breathed out softly, tucking himself more into Steve as if he couldn’t get enough.

Steve nodded, leaning his head against Bucky’s. He couldn’t get enough either.

“This turn to the warehouse?” Sam asked.

Steve nodded, feeling nothing but warmth and love cocooning him. This was it; this was all he wanted. He had Bucky. His smart, beautiful, brave Bucky. Bucky didn’t love him fully yet, but he would. Steve was shocked to feel happy at that. He was just glad that Bucky was doing and saying what he wanted for himself and not for anybody else. Not for Hydra, not for Steve, but for himself.

Steve was corrected from his thoughts earlier; he could be prouder. And now he was. 

\--

As they got to the warehouse, Bucky scanned the outside area immediately. There were no cars, no signs of life anywhere else. That didn’t stop every single one of Bucky’s nerves from standing at attention. Bucky hadn’t been there in so long. He thought once he escaped them, he would never go back.

_Hands pushed him toward the doors of a warehouse. He didn’t understand why they were so forceful; he wasn’t going to go anywhere. He was at their mercy. They said the words, they activated him._

_“This way Soldat.” They pushed him inside and led him toward the side wall where file cabinets lined down it. They didn’t give him a chance to inspect his surroundings._

_“Move it.” The man gripping him pushed him toward the metal cabinets._

_The Soldier reached out with his metal arm and harshly yanked away the file cabinet that his handler referred to. As he did, he was shocked momentarily at the lightness of it. He wanted to ask if this place was safe for them, if he needed to protect them, but he couldn’t speak. He was muzzled in his transport._

_They led him in the doors, guiding the Soldier in front of them to gain his protection, but forcing him around with their hands to remind him he was theirs._

_He was their toy soldier._

“Do you know this place?” Steve asked gently, pulling Bucky’s mind back to the now.

Bucky blinked and nodded. No words were able to force their way out. Every time he had been here, he was never allowed to talk. He was muzzled. He felt the ghost of the muzzle against his jaw now. He had to resist everything in him screaming to claw at his face to get the feeling off.

As they got to the door to get into the warehouse, it was locked. Sam groaned, pushing harder. “Well.”

Bucky walked over and scanned the doorway. His eyes stopped on the door where the dip was in the wooden design. Flipping the flap of wood, he revealed a keypad. His stomach flipped, this was the Soldier’s recollection, not his own.

“Impressive.” Sam sounded genuinely impressed.

Bucky wished the circumstances were different. He didn't feel impressed, only disgusted. His metal hand moved on its own, pounding in a code quickly. He didn't even need to think, it just came to him. The keypad flashed green. The disgust within him grew.

The warehouse was lit dingy yellow. He heard a light switch flick on and jumped, raising his arms up in defense.

“I did that.” Steve reassured Bucky sheepishly.

Bucky didn’t say anything. He walked deeper into the warehouse, the stillness eerily quiet. He knew there was a basement, that was much more important than this main space. He thought back to the Soldier’s memory, the cabinets. He looked over to the wall where the file cabinets were neatly placed. Walking over, he shoved the correct one over, on the first try which made his stomach churn, with his metal arm and revealed a doorway.

He felt the phantom hands of his handlers gripping and pushing his skin. Quickly, he smacked at his arm. It was anything but subtle, he just needed to reassure himself that it was just him. Nobody was touching him, handling him. 

“You okay? Bucky, we can all go if you’re uncomfortable.” Steve sounded so earnest that Bucky bit his lip, actually contemplating it.

“’M fine.” He grunted in response. Words still felt held back in his throat.

Steve nodded once, coming up to stand by Bucky. He appreciated that Steve wasn’t going to push him farther into the corner Bucky felt he was in already.

“This isn’t creepy at all.” Sam said as he approached Bucky and Steve. He had been taking in all the alarming details of the abandoned warehouse. “Did you know this was here?” He asked Steve, referring to the hidden doorway Bucky revealed.

Steve shook his head, turning to look toward the main room. “Zemo kept us up here.”

_For a reason._ Bucky thought harshly.

Stepping into the elevator, Bucky pressed the button and they descended down.

“Are there stairs too?” Sam asked as the elevator dropped. “I don’t want to get trapped.”

Bucky shook his head. “There’s a way out.” He said, tone pitted and aged. A tone that wasn’t his.

It was the Soldiers.

Bucky froze in his skin, quite literally. The trigger words weren’t said, but the soldier felt this was his place, trying to push himself out. This was why Bucky couldn’t talk, he was being internally choked out by his other self. He was speaking as if a handler asked him a question and not his friend.

He just needed to deny the darker side of himself the satisfaction. He knew he had most, if not all, of the control. He thought back to the soft caress of Steve’s hands on either side of his head. These were his scars, this was his body, his mind.

As they stepped out of the elevator, there was a long stretch of hallway lit only by the hazard lights. There were doorways, most doors open which signaled to Bucky there was nobody here. The doorways emitted a blue hued light into the dimly lit hallway. Only one doorway emitted a yellowish hue and was much brighter.

“What are these rooms?” Sam took a step forward and Bucky grabbed his wrist quickly.

“Hold on.” Bucky took a deep breath and stepped forward.

Bucky checked each doorway, occasionally steeling a glance back to make sure that Steve and Sam didn’t move. Luckily, each blue lit room was empty just as Bucky had suspected. He had to look, he needed confirmation. He didn’t want anything to happen to Steve or Sam.

He needed to check one last room though. The room that emitted a yellow hue into the hallways and right into Bucky’s soul. The room that he knew held a chair that they pinned him down to and forced his memories away with. He stood outside the doorway, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn’t want to look inside, but he needed to be sure that nobody was going to come out and grab him and scorch his brain.

Slowly, he peeked his head in.

Nobody.

The chair sat proudly in the center of grimy, yet sterile, room.

_Hands forced him into the chair. The in between him, trying to find the lost voice of Bucky over the strong fist of the Soldier. They weren’t gentle with him, he was built like a powerhouse, he should have been able to take it. But he didn’t want to, he wanted to get up. He wanted to fight back._

_Pulling at his arms, he realized they were already locked into the chair. He groaned and threw his head into the back of the chair. His heart beat erratically in his chest._

_“Calm down.” Beady eyes stared into him. “You’ve been down this road before.”_

_He felt his eyes go wild in his head, bugging out as he tried to pull the strength of his metal arm through the restraint. The metal gears whirred and shifted as the pressure to his arm grew. The metal screeched on the metal restraint in a cry for help_

_More restraints fell onto him_

Reality began blurring. Bucky fell to the floor. His head throbbed; his ears bled. He knelt, his fists balled and pressing into the floor.

_The metal enclosed his head, the two metal squares pressing into the risen indents that were made for it. He felt it press into the tender scars and wanted to revolt against his own skin. How dare it betray him like this? How dare it accommodate the pain and allow this to happen?_

_“Soldat, are you with us?”_

_He couldn’t say anything, he was panting. He felt like a caged animal. But he wasn’t just caged in the room, he was caged in his own body. The inner, younger voice of himself was calling out to fight, to be brave, to get up, to run. The tough, hollow voice of himself was forcing him into the chair, holding him down because this was who he was now. He needed to accept it._

_The man who had asked him the previous question just tsked. “Always make this hard on yourself, don’t you Sergeant Barnes.” The man shoved a tooth marked mouthguard into his mouth._

_His name, Sergeant Barnes. It sparked something in him, he spit the mouthguard out._

Bucky was like a fish out of water gasping for air. “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, 32557038. 32557038. 32557038.” He was choking the words out, repeating them, over and over. His fingers clenched and unclenched against the floor.

“Bucky!” Steve’s voice called for him, it was close.

_“You know.” The beady eyed man walked across and picked up the mouthguard. “You were reluctant as prisoner, thought you’d improve.”_

_Sergeant Barnes said nothing. The Soldier wanted to say everything._

_“You will never learn, will you?” Another man asked, stepping away from the wall of the room. He had just been standing there, stalking the prey that was Sergeant Barnes. “We don’t need to get the boss man in here, do we?” His voice was sickly._

_This man scared him the most. The man had sharp, hard edges to every part of his body. His hair was dark, and his eyes were dark, like looking into the bottomless pits of Hell. He couldn’t remember his name, but he wished he could. He wished he could remember so many things. The thought made him hyperaware of the metal squishing his skul.._

_The man gripped his jaw and squeezed it open for the smaller, beady eyed man to put the mouthguard back in. “Now.” The man pushed Sergeant Barnes roughly against the chair._

“NO!” A harsh, pitiful scream erupted from Bucky as he threw himself onto the floor.

“Nobody’s going to hurt you!” Steve voice came from the side of Bucky. He wasn’t touching Bucky, but close enough to make his physical presence known.

_Electricity ripped through him. It melted the skin on the side of his head. It rattled his bones down to his toes. It shook his organs against one another._

Bucky shook, pulling his knees to his chest.

_As it subsided, the metal lifted with a tiny whine of protest. He could feel the skin on the side of his head melt down toward his ears._

_“Are you back with us, Soldier?” The man with hard edges stood before him, hands crossed over his chest._

_His eyes no longer looked around the room. His mind no longer wanted to revolt. He looked up into the dark orbs of the man before him and gave one small, firm nod._

Bucky was crying, bawling into his knees. He felt pain all over, as if he had just sat in the chair rather than glanced at it. He could smell the blood that was coming from his ears and he could taste the old, disgusting plastic of the mouthguard they had shoved into his mouth. He whimpered to himself. “My name is Bucky. My name is Bucky.”

He couldn’t focus on anything else. He laid on the ground in the doorway of the room that once held his literal nightmares. He tried to calm down, to relax the ache within his skull but he couldn’t.

“Bucky?” Steve hesitantly asked.

Bucky hiccupped as he sat back up onto his knees. He didn’t turn to look at Steve. Instead, he wiped at his face, trying to rid any blood that may have trickled sideways onto it. He wiped it along the sides of his pants.

He heard the footsteps of Steve as he came and knelt down in front of Bucky. He looked so sad; his eyes were red rimmed just like Bucky imagined his looked at this moment. But Steve didn’t say anything, he just sat on his knees before Bucky with his hands held out in front of him. He was offering himself to Bucky if Bucky decided to reach out.

Bucky felt his heart clench in its sporadic beating. Tears kept falling and pain kept pumping through him as he lifted his shaky flesh hand. Looking down, he considered how his metal hand was so steady.

He fisted both hands. What a perfect analogy that was for him. His flesh arm was him- Bucky, unstable and in pain. His metal arm was theirs, Hydra’, the Assets, the Soldiers- steady and always prepared. He hated it, his mind took the analogy he created and rubbed it into his face. Bucky felt broken down.

Steve’s fingers twitched, itching to grab onto Bucky’s and help him through the pain. Bucky had been fighting his pain by himself for over fifty years now. He considered that maybe allowing Steve to help him wouldn’t make himself weaker. He bashed the thought away; he could never give anybody that much baggage.

Despite that, he gently let his shaking right hand rest against Steve’s right hand. Steve slowly caressed his fingers around it. He wanted somebody to comfort him. He wanted to feel loved.

“It’s all right, Buck.” Steve whispered, his thumb rubbing against Bucky’s skin. “Nobody’s here.”

Bucky nodded once, swallowing down the thick saliva that had formed in his mouth. “The chair.”

“Shh.” Steve shook his head. “You never have to sit in it again.”

Bucky felt the hot tears stream down his cheeks as he took in Steve’s words. They sounded promising, like he truly would never sit in it again. It planted the seed of hope into Bucky’s withering soul. But he couldn’t believe it fully. Not when he was back here when he never thought he would be again after he escaped. Sure, he chose to come see the warehouse, and he admitted to himself now that _maybe_ that wasn’t the best idea he’s ever had. But now, seeing the chair, it took the tendrils of the Hydra logo and wrapped them around himself. It sheathed him into their dark, red aura. It promised him that no matter how far he ran, no matter how hard he stomped down the Winter Soldier within him- he would _always_ be theirs to control. That promise outweighed the beauty of Steve’s.

Steve continued stroking Bucky’s fingers. “You’re brave, Buck. I’m proud of you for checking these rooms despite what they did to you.” He brought Bucky’s hands up to his lips and placed a small kiss on his knuckles. “You are the strongest man I have ever met.”

Bucky sniffled, leaning his body forward toward Steve’s slightly. “I’m scared.”

Steve’s eyes were sympathetic. “I know, love.”

Bucky’s heart shivered at the endearing name. The whole situation that they sat in was messy, dark, and morbid. Yet, Steve was bringing something lovely into it. He was molding Bucky into a light, something wholesome. It was as if Steve was trying to pry the grip of Hydra’s unrelenting hold on Bucky completely off.

Bucky leaned forward more, his hands clutching onto Steve’s as if he were his anchor. He allowed himself to believe that was actually true. “If they find me, they’ll force me into that chair and they’ll ruin me. Over and over and over and-”

“Stop.” Steve cut him off, softly but sternly. “If they find you, I will get you back before they can.”

“Promise?” Bucky asked selfishly. He knew it was selfish. He knew he shouldn’t ask Steve something he could _never_ guarantee.

Bucky had been fooling himself this whole time he was away from his handlers. He had told himself he was a free man now, that he was in the safe house and he was _safe_. He allowed himself to run around the woods of the house as if there wasn’t anybody lurking to capture him again. He had been fooling himself the whole time believing he could be his own person for now, or forever. He would never truly be safe, not until Hydra was completely erased. Bucky may be selfish, but he knew that would never happen.

Steve bit his lip, his blue eyes pooling with tears. “I…”

Bucky shook his head, regret clawing at his throat. “I know you can’t.”

Steve’s face flashed with betrayal. “You know I would promise you that if I could. That doesn’t mean I won’t do everything in my power to get to you before they can hurt you.”

“I know.”

Steve leaned his forehead into Bucky’s sweaty one. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.” He sighed, his nose nudging Bucky’s. “I didn’t mean to panic you.”

Bucky blushed at the feeling of Steve so close, so warm. “I wanted to come.”

Steve pressed a soft kiss to Bucky’s lips. “Can you stand up?”

Bucky nodded and leaned away from Steve. Steve stood up and extended his hand toward Bucky’s. He gripped it and rose, his legs shaky from being trapped under him while he melted into the floor as sadness swallowed him. He took a deep breath, rubbing his hands onto his pants. His legs were a little wobbly and Steve scanned Bucky’s body.

“Do they have a sink?” Steve asked, moving hair gently from the side of Bucky’s face to look at his ears. “We can clean you up.”

Bucky shook his head. “I’ll do it later.” He didn’t want Steve to help clean up the mess he made that he brought onto himself.

Sam walked over tentatively. He carefully patted Bucky on shoulder once but didn’t push Bucky anymore to talk about what just happened. “I say we quickly scan the rooms for any paperwork or files and then we get the hell out of here.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll look in this one.” He referred to the room with the chair.

“I can help.”

“Bucky,”

“I can.” Bucky said sternly. “I should be allowed to look into a room and not have it kill me.”

Sam’s eyes were weary as they turned to Steve. “I, uh, I’ll start checking these other rooms. Everyone just scream if something happens.”

And then they were off. Sam was down the hall and Bucky could hear the movements he made as he stepped into or out of a room or pulled open file cabinets. Bucky was also watching Steve, who was searching the chair room with him very thoroughly. That room was the biggest of them all, but he still felt he could have done it alone and allowed Steve to search some of the smaller rooms. That would have gotten them done much quicker and Bucky wanted nothing more than to bolt out of there.

_Maybe fall into Steve after and hold him and-_

Bucky's fingers froze their skimming over the many files. He wanted to be with Steve, around Steve, Steve holding him or him holding Steve. That wasn't new. But the feeling of it coming so free into his mind like it was ingrained there- that was new. Usually, a memory or comment would prompt such a thought. This one came freely. It was like telling Steve that he loved him now brought out this new inner voice and feeling.

Steve was thumbing through paperwork he found on a desk in the corner when Bucky heard the small, pained noise that escaped Steve’s lips. Bucky walked over, his head resting over Steve’s shoulder as he looked at the file with him. It was pictures, diagrams to be exact, of Bucky’s body. The detail of his measurements was terrifyingly incredible. The side of him and the dimensions of him to work with his arm. Then beneath that, the diagram of his arm and its components. But as his eyes traced over, he saw the diagram of the body they had wanted to create from Bucky. The body that involved replacing pieces of his skeleton with more metal fabrications. They had wanted to pull out the left side of his ribs first and replace them for, as the folder read, ‘optimal left side strength’. Then they would move around to the right.

Bucky shivered at the thought. They wanted to genuinely turn him into a human robot. A surge of calm ran through him at the idea of only having one metal limb and not fifty. Seeing this diagram and realizing the fate he was narrowly escaping, that made the arm look like a gift of gold.

“This is…” Steve breathed out, his voice dark. He just shook his head biting down on his lip. The lip Bucky wanted to kiss and say it was okay, that he was okay.

But that would be a little more than a partial lie.

“They didn’t do it though.” Bucky shifted to stand in front of Steve. He lifted up his metal arm. “This is all I got. For seventy years, they planned this, but they never actually did it.”

“But what was stopping them?” Steve snapped.

Bucky shrugged. “Don’t know. Maybe they just couldn’t get the finer details worked out.”

“It’s so detailed. They were ready to rip you apart like you were a fucking stuffed bear!” Steve was furious, then instantly softened. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t put my anger onto you like that.”

Bucky shrugged. “Don’t know, maybe they just couldn’t get the finer details worked out.”

Steve set the folder under his arm and put both hands on Bucky’s sides. He did it slow, giving Bucky time to swat him away if he chose to. He didn’t like being treated like he was glass, but he liked the option to be allowed to say no. It pulled at Bucky, this like and dislike. He hated the feeling.

“You know, as far as I know, I only got one metal limb.” Bucky joked, trying to lighten the mood. It fell short, Steve’s eyes just grew wider, as if he was a puppy and somebody had kicked him and then kicked him again. Bucky hated that he was responsible for that look. “Sorry, not my best joke.” He muttered.

Steve licked his lips but said nothing. “Let’s go look at some other rooms, okay? This room is atrocious.”

Bucky couldn’t agree more. He wanted out too. “Did we see everything in here?” He wanted to make sure it was clear. He didn’t want to have to step foot into this room ever again.

“I saw enough.” Steve placed a chaste kiss on Bucky’s lips and turned, walking out of the room. Bucky stood there, watching after Steve.

-

After they searched the whole warehouse, they all piled back into Sam’s car. Sam had gathered a few different files from the rooms he scanned, Steve had too, including the one about turning Bucky into a machine, and Bucky stole a few others from the chair room and another room. He had even taken the file that detailed how the chair worked. He didn’t want to read it yet, but he would when he was ready. Maybe it would give him closure between his nightmares and that death trap.

“So, where should we store these?” Sam asked starting the car and locking the doors. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to have them anywhere anybody else could get their hands on them.”

“I want to read through all of them.” Steve said, his thumb gliding over the ‘HYDRA CLASSFIED’ stamped logo on top of the manilla folder.

“You’ll lose your mind.” Bucky snapped. He was suddenly angry that anybody would want to read these and put themselves through the torture if they didn’t have to. “These mean nothing.”

“On top of keeping you safe, I’d like to destroy the people who tried to _kill_ you.” Steve snapped right back. “This is about getting rid of Hydra, once and for all. I’ll do it this time.”

Bucky wanted to snap back that it wasn't possible, but he caught Sam's eye in the rearview mirror. Sam spared a look to him that silently screamed to back down from this one. Bucky gave a curt nod to Sam and bit down on his bottom lip.

Bucky just didn’t understand why Steve was so angry, why he cared so much. Sure, he cared about Bucky and Bucky could now feel that if he was a mile away or three thousand away. The problem was Steve cared too much too about Hydra. That, in Bucky’s mind, twisted him so closely with Hydra that it turned them into one. He had been pushing for almost a year to pull away and now it was like a fly trap snapping him back in. A silent screaming of _mine._

“I’ll take these all back to the tower and read them. I’ll make sure nobody else sees them.” Steve turned to Sam. “You set everything up right?”

Sam nodded. “All of them are on too. We had an extra, but Barnes knows how to set it up if he finds a place for it.”

Bucky handed Steve all the files he collected. Reaching under his shirt, he grabbed the one about the chair and handed it to Steve too. “You’ll want these too. I just… I want to read the one about the chair when you’re done.”

Steve nodded and put them all in a pile on his lap. Turning around, he reached out and cupped the side of Bucky’s face. “I’m going to read these, spend some time at the tower to not raise any suspicions, then I’ll come to see you. Is that all right?”

Bucky nodded, leaning into Steve’s touch. He didn’t want to spend time away from Steve, but he knew Steve had to maintain his private life.

Bucky bit his lip when his mind screamed at him, _“You want to be apart of that private life.”_ Because he did. He wanted to be able to be with Steve like in his memories. He wanted to be close to Steve all the time, go with him to places like Coney Island and spoil him when he could. He couldn't give Steve anything and it made him guilty. Steve was giving him so much and what was Bucky giving him in return?

“And if you need me, emergency or something bad, you can come to the tower.” He rubbed across Bucky’s cheekbone. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to get in there without being seen.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smirk. “I am good at what I do.”

Steve leaned back and placed a kiss onto Bucky’s lips. Bucky kissed back, instantly craving more.

Sam cleared his throat as he pulled onto the main road. “Hey, your best friend in the whole entire world is just _loving_ this.” He deadpanned, the smirk on his lips prominent.

Bucky leaned away from Steve and chuckled. “Sorry Sam, can’t help it.” He placed one more, quick kiss to Steve’s lips. “I’ll miss you, Steviedoll.”

Steve smiled. “I’ll miss you too.” He sat to face forward but reaching his arm back to hold Bucky’s hand. “Till the end of the line.”

Bucky laced their fingers. “Till the end of the line.”

\---

The warehouse now sat empty as the car pulled away. All that remained was the small, gentle flicker of red from a camera attached to a pole a few feet away. It was new, placed there after the first visit.

“Yes, they came.”

“All of them?”

“All of them.”


	9. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! There will be sex in this chapter. I edited some of the tags to add a little bit more, but they definitely don't have an order to them. The sex will begin after "Go to sleep, Buck.". Enjoy and thank you! I appreciate all of you so much!

Bucky shoved his face into the cool side of the pillow after his phone clock told him it was 3:30 in the morning. He didn’t want to be up, but he couldn’t sleep. He was tossing and turning, having similar feelings to what his mind felt would be like a boat being tossed around by waves. It was a weird analogy, but his mind at this hour was definitely trying to find and distract why he couldn’t sleep. He wished there was a reason besides the never-ending pain he felt pulsing in the back of his skull. Bucky liked to think he did a good job hiding his pain. Afterall, he was always trying to be stronger than he needed to be.

Bucky had been doing better with sleep. He wouldn’t go as far as saying great, but he would take any improvements that he could get. But tonight, he kept waking up in a cold sweat, fear pulsing through him. He kept feeling eyes on him, beady eyes piercing through his torn skin.

He groaned, turning his head out to get a better breath and let his eyes stare into the darkness of the room. Each time he closed them, he shivered and sweated. He hated the feeling of the unknown, the fear that your nightmares are starting to twist with your reality. Too many times he had to call Steve or search through his journal entries to figure out if he was conjuring up a nightmare to his daily life. Bucky held his eyes open, allowing them to adjust before he sat up.

His spine froze him straight up and his eyes widened. In the corner of the room stood a dark figure with sharp features. He blinked again, rubbing at his eyes. He felt like a robot trying to get his eyes to shift into focus.

It was too late. 

The figure was gone.

His pulse started to speed up and his body started to shake. He didn’t know if he really saw a figure or if his mind was pulling a sick joke on him. Sometimes, he would really see things when he woke up, like the outline of the chair or sometimes the blob of what he figured was a person. Bucky couldn’t remember ever seeing the outline of a person that was _that_ defined. He would be in a stage between dream and awake when he would see things around him. This felt different. He felt fully awake, not even groggy. Bucky hadn’t even been able to sleep because he felt eyes plastered to his skin. There could actually be somebody here. Those could have been real eyes he felt.

Slowly, he got out of his bed and shook his metal arm out as if waking it up. The action jostled something primal in him. He walked over and turned on the light in his room. He was trying to act braver than he really felt.

But there was nothing. Nothing.

He flipped the light on in the bathroom.

Nothing. Nothing even lingered behind the shower curtain. 

Bucky searched through the rest of the house, but he found no signs of forced entry. This scared him. He knew there was cameras, but would Sam or Steve really be watching him at this hour? Probably not. He didn’t just not feel safe, he felt threated.

He knew he needed to get out of here. He needed to go somewhere where the eyes wouldn’t find him again. He was somewhat thankful to not have a car, he wouldn’t have trusted driving it anyway. The thought flashed before his mind of him driving and his car thrown to the side of the road, somebody reaching over him and-

He gasped, covering his mouth to cut the breath short incase somebody was there. That thought, it wasn’t a thought. It was the night when he killed the Starks. He had been trying to force that to the back of his mind since being reunited with his love. Each time Steve mentioned Tony, guilt consumed him. Steve and Tony were friends, this could ruin that. Worse, it could ruin his relationship with Steve. He needed to tell Steve to try to ease his conscience, but he couldn’t. It would make things worse and that was the last thing he needed. They were finally coming back together in soul, Bucky cared too much to jeopardize that. Maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t care. He earned the right to be selfish.

Yet here he stood making things worse for himself. He was remembering things he was trying so hard to force from his mind. He could feel it worming its way through his brain as it reached the front, causing his hand to clench around his lips. He wanted to cry, to scream. Now he had this memory pounding in his skull with the feeling of his skin crawling from the idea of being watched in such a vulnerable state. He hated his mind, he hated sharing memories with the enemy.

He tried to think straight to find a way out of the house and to somewhere safe- somewhere where Steve was. Bucky had no way to get to the tower like Steve had told him to do when he was scared or in danger. As his legs forced their way back to his bedroom with terror clawing at his skin, pulling his hair, he tried to think. He needed a disguise, he needed to get out of here. Bucky knew he had to play this safe, somebody could follow him to the tower and that put Steve in danger too.

Bucky reached into his closet, feeling nothing but clothes. Pulling out a dark green hoodie, he pulled it on. He would just have to be careful, sneak in through the side entries and remain unseen. He had studied the tower before with Hydra, but he was never actually sent to it. Hopefully, his instincts would kick in and for once the Soldier would give him a memory that would actually be of use.

As he pulled on a black baseball cap, he shoved his hair up into it. He knew he needed to keep Steve safe. Bucky can live with not forgiving himself for what he did, but he can’t live with himself if something happened to Steve because of him.

\--

Steve shoved the last file of his stack from the warehouse across the table to the other ones. He had been reading them for hours. Not reading them once, but twice. He was desperate to find any sort of information that could lead him to find who bombed that building, find who is trying to kill Bucky.

So far, he only learned that they wanted to rip Bucky apart and restitch him together like some hand-me-down toy and went to great lengths of torture to start the process. Those files completely tore Steve apart. His best friend from childhood, his lover into adulthood and into now (which Steve, on top of everything else, was still was reeling from), had endured levels of pain that no living, or nonliving thing for that matter, should endure.

Steve rubbed his hands together, his ring finger and pinky nails screaming as the pressure surged through the exposed nerves. Steve hated that he resorted to biting his nails while reading the files, but he got so lost in the pain. It was like putting pain onto himself, even small, was going to take away the pain that Bucky endured.

Steve wished more than anything that that could happen.

Rubbing at his jaw, his eyes focused on the stack of files. Sighing, he looked down at the names that he found within the files and took note of. He hadn’t found Zemo, but that didn’t mean Steve trusted him. He didn’t and wouldn’t. Bucky had told Steve that was a handler of him, somebody who led Bucky day in and day out to his execution. Steve wanted to know who else Zemo knew, what else Zemo did. For all he knew, he could have been a person named in that file and Zemo wasn’t even his real name, or Hydra had him coded.

Steve had to play it smart. He couldn’t let T’Challa or Natasha know that he went back to the warehouse or stole files from it. He needed to remain on the Avengers side. Although Steve did want to scream at them both that Bucky was in pain just from being inside the building. He wanted to pound on his chest and tell them to open their eyes- wake up and see that Bucky is innocent and they want him back to turn him into a metal murder machine.

Steve took a deep breath, trying to slow down his breathing that ramped up in his passionate frustration. He was exhausted, his limbs begging to lay down and not go to the gym and pound through punching bags again. After he read the files through the first time, he went and destroyed four different punching bags. His hands were healing the small scrapes and cuts because Steve didn’t do the best job wrapping them. He was too eager to just destroy, picturing the mind of Zemo and other Hydra agents he imagined. He imagined them all looking like Dr. Zola with devil horns and sharp teeth. Piercing away through Bucky as they ripped him apart.

He forced himself out of the chair he had practically molded himself into. Steve just needed to sleep. He needed to lay down and come back to this heartbreak tomorrow morning. He thought about texting Bucky, but he knew Bucky was asleep. He had gotten a little goodnight text at ten o’clock with a joke about how Bucky felt old like Steve. He smiled at the thought, finding it cute that Bucky called Steve old but refused to be old himself.

He grabbed a cup and filled it with water. Padding across his floor layout to his bedroom, he collapsed instantly onto his bed. His eyes burned from being awake even when he closed them. He laid down, wrapping his arms around a pillow.

_"Are you fucking insane? You jumped out of a plane to save me? Jesus Christ Stevie, I leave you for what, five minutes, and you get injected with buff juice and you jump out of planes and through_ fire _to save me? And yes, before you protest, I am_ still _angry that you tried to get me to leave without you like_ I _was being irrational, but_ you _did all of_ this _. Jesus, Steve. I cannot believe you sometimes! What did I tell you?” Bucky paused and looked up at Steve, his face red. “This isn’t a back-alley Steve, it’s war! You could have gotten killed and it would have been my fault because I was taken, and you came back for me!” Bucky pulled at the straps of his jacket. “Punk you know that you’re a punk.” He nodded as he spoke. “And I love this punk. Unfuckingbelievable.” He muttered under his breath as he slid the jacket from his shoulders._

_Steve nodded, a small smile on his face. Bucky was tearing into him, no doubt about that. But Steve knew Bucky was just letting off steam. Prior to this outburst, Bucky was crying into Steve’s now “too buff” chest because he was in pain and he was scared. He felt scrambled and seeing Steve, but not the Steve he grew up with, only added to it. It wasn’t until Steve gently told him that he had him and wouldn’t let go that Bucky was suddenly up and tearing Steve a new asshole._

_Any other time, Steve may have yelled back that he could protect himself. Bucky needed this though because as he was speaking, Steve could see he was trying to work through everything that had happened. He was kidnapped, saved by his lover who was now a giant and called “Captain America”. Bucky was both impressed and so stunned that Steve was sure he was malfunctioning._

_Bucky came and stood before Steve and ran his fingers through his hair, lightly tugging to make Steve look up at him. “You aren’t allowed to save me ever again. Got it?”_

_Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. “No can do, Bucko. You have saved me countless times, I do it_ once _and you freak out? Nope. I can protect myself and, if I need to, you too. You’d do the same for me- Hell, you have!”_

_“I don’t need saving.”_

_“Oh, but when I say it I’m trying to prove something? Steve raised an eyebrow._

_Bucky pursed his lips and sat down on Steve’s thighs, straddling him. “I can’t live without you Steve.” He kept his hand in Steve’s hair, playing with the soft strands. “I save you because I’m selfish. You don’t need me, not when you look like this. I know that.” He dropped his head heavily onto Steve’s now large shoulder._

_“I do need you. Always.” Steve responded instantly, running his hand up and down Bucky’s spine, slipping his hand underneath his white tank top to feel the warmth of his skin. “I went in there today to save you because I’m selfish too. I defied every order to get you back.”_

_Bucky sniffled. Steve could feel the warm tears that were wetting his suit. Steve just held him, letting him cry._

_“That was too much in too little time.” Bucky choked out. “It was too much pain and confusion and seeing you and I,” He sobbed, “I thought I died.” He gripped Steve’s suit._

_Steve kissed the top of his head, pulling him closer. He felt Bucky’s legs tighten around his torso, trapping him into the touch._

_"I thought if I ever made it out of this war alive, you would have met a pretty dame and you would have forgotten about me. It would’ve been right anyway since we would have to anyway. But the thought always hurt so when I saw you after telling myself I wouldn’t again I,” Bucky looked up into Steve’s eyes, not finishing his sentence as tears poured from his stormy gray eyes._

_Steve moved his hand up to cup Bucky’s jaw, his thumb catching the tears. “I could never forget you, Buck. No matter where we end up. I’m with you till the end of the line, remember? You think I’m allowing that line to ever end?”_

_Bucky shook his head slowly, biting his lip to hold back more tears. “Suppose not.” Steve had never seen Bucky look this heartbroken._

_“Psst.”_

_“I love you, Buck.” Steve bumped Bucky’s nose before placing his lips to Bucky’s soft ones._

_Bucky kissed him back, his lips slightly salty from the tears, but Steve didn’t mind. Bucky looked so beautiful and vulnerable when he cried. It was a side that was rare for him to show. Steve was both honored and heartbroken whenever he got to see it._

_“Steve.”_

_Bucky’s hands gripped at his suit. “You could take this off you know.”_

_Steve shook his head, a blush creeping over his cheeks. “Uh huh, I could. But why would I?” He teased._

_"Wake up.”_

_"I want to see what the new body looks like. What,” Bucky ran his hands down the expanse of Steve’s chest and abs, fingers tracing the outline of Steve’s growing erection. “Grew the most.”_

_Steve blushed and bit back a moan as Bucky’s fingers gripped around him. “C’mon Captain, for your favorite soldier?”_

“Steve.” Came a soft whisper and a hand, cold, pressing against his bicep.

Steve panicked, half asleep and shoved at the person as he sat up. As he did, he looked over to see the outline of Bucky, metal hand catching the moonlight from between the curtains. Steve shifted, covering his very real-life erection with the pillow. "Bucky?" Steve's voice was full of sleep and his face was heating up with embarrassment. Reaching over, he flipped his bedside light on. Squinting, he noted the time of 4:45 in the morning.

“Hey.” Bucky said sheepishly, his metal hand holding his flesh one, the fingers wringing against one another. Steve noticed the black gloves poking out from the pocket of his hoodie. “I uh, couldn’t sleep. Sorry I… interrupted.” His eyes shot down to look at the pillow then back up to Steve.

Steve blushed deeper, rubbing at his eyes. He wished this whole scenario were different. In his dream, he was about to have a night with Bucky, but now Bucky was here before him and the times were drastically different yet so similar. They both still desired each other, but the time was far from right.

In another life, Steve would have been ecstatic to be woken up by Bucky in the middle of a dream heating up. Bucky would've teased Steve, running his hand along his body. Not today. Bucky was here because... he couldn't sleep. There a hint of fear in those eyes, in turn putting fear into Steve. He pulled his mind from the lusty haze and put it all into Bucky's well-being. How did Bucky get here? Why was Bucky here? Was he seen getting here? Why couldn't he sleep?

“Did anyone see you?” Steve settled on asking. That wasn’t the most important question racing in his mind but was a pretty key one.

Bucky shook his head. “I’m still good at my assassin job.” He forced a smile. There was some silence and Bucky shuffling in his spot. “I uh, I wasn’t safe there tonight.”

Steve frowned and patted the spot on his bed next to him. He kept the pillow over his now softening erection. "You don't have to explain yourself right now, or ever for that matter." Steve watched Bucky as he sat down next to Steve carefully. He wanted to know why, but he didn't want to push Bucky to share if he didn't want to. Besides, Steve would take anything he could get and Bucky showing up and using Steve's offer- he'd take that any day.

“I ran here. Then I snuck up the side of the building inside doors and windows and stuff.” He toed his shoes off before putting his feet on the bed. “I thought I saw somebody.” He bit his lip as he pushed his toes underneath the blanket.

Steve looked at Bucky, worry etched on his features, but he couldn’t wipe them away. “Where?”

“Not here!” Bucky said quickly. “At the house. In my room.”

Steve froze. There were so many things wrong with that. Steve knew the absence of the word "safe" showed that Bucky didn't feel safe at that house anymore, not because it was suddenly his home. Now with the suspect of a person showing up, he wasn't going to feel safe there probably ever again. Steve admired the honesty, even if he was maybe looking too deep into what Bucky said.

What he didn't admire was the fact that there was potentially somebody in that house- _with Bucky_. Meaning that somebody would know where he was staying- Sam's safe house. This would put Sam on the radar, meaning Steve would be on it too. They were a team, and nobody would be oblivious enough to think Sam was saving Steve's childhood best friend without his knowledge.

Steve ran a hand through his hair. This was bad. The whole situation was taking a turn for the worst and Steve hated that it was shocking him. _Did you honestly think you could get away with it? Steve_ sharply thought. 

Bucky pulled the blankets up over him and lied down. “But I’m okay now.” He murmured, adjusting the pillows under his head. “It’s… okay that I came here, right?”

Steve didn’t even hesitate. “Of course.” He was worried about the journey Bucky took and would need to check more than one kind of surveillance once he woke up for the day, but for now he had Bucky and that mattered most. Bucky would be safe with Steve.

After a few beats of silence, both of them silently worrying, Bucky turned and looked at Steve. Steve looked back and noticed the slight smirk playing on Bucky's lips. "What were you dreaming about?"

All of Steve's thoughts shifted to both lust and embarrassment. "Nothing." He blushed a full-body blush. He turned to lay down, facing Bucky. He adjusted the blankets around his waist to avoid anything coming back. With the look on Bucky's face making Steve's cock twitch back to life, he adjusted the blankets a little more.

“Didn’t sound like nothing.” Bucky teased, waving a hand toward Steve’s lower half. For a split second, it pulled Steve back to the 1940s. One of them would have a wet dream and wake up with a hard cock with the other feeling it pressed against their back. Bucky was the one who would tease both Steve and himself when that would happen, gesturing down below the waist with a comment of, “I can’t help how excited it gets” or “My dream did this, now your turn”. Bucky was always a little shit like that, and Steve could never do anything but admire him.

Bucky laughed, propped up on his elbow to look over at Steve. “It’s flattering.”

"How do you know it was about you?” Steve quipped, raising an eyebrow.

“Moaned my name.” He answered swiftly.

"Impossible. We weren't-" Steve cut himself off with a groan when he realized he gave it away. He ran his tongue on the inside of his cheek and pursed his lips when he realized Bucky played him into getting the answer. _Same old Buck_. "Damn it, Buck."

Bucky grinned and Steve melted at the beauty of it. It came to Bucky so quick, like nothing bad had ever happened to them. Like they were in their childhood bedrooms again, sneakily worshipping each other with words and touch. “I knew it! Do you dream of me often?”

“Oh my God, Buck. Go to sleep.” Steve covered his face in embarrassment, a small laugh escaping his lips.

“I could, but.” He bit his lip and pulled Steve’s hand away from his face gently. “I could help.”

Steve’s eyes widened and he looked down at Bucky, a look of lust was misting his stormy blue eyes. Steve wanted to, of course he did. He loved Bucky to no end. But was Bucky really wanting to? Steve didn’t want their first time after everything to be because Bucky felt like he _had_ to. Steve wanted it to be natural, full of love like their first time had been.

“We don’t have to.” Bucky said quickly, holding his one hand up while the other was lightly fisting the sheet. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel pressured.”

Steve blinked. “No, I, I thought maybe I was pressuring you because you saw and I,”

"You had a dream about my dick, and I want to act on it, believe me Steviedoll, I’d be the one pressuring you in this situation.” Bucky chuckled softly. “I feel like we’re teenagers again.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile. So many times, one would come home and be lust driven and worry if the other would be too or not. Each of them cared so deeply about consent. Most times, they always ended in sex; they were too crazy about each other to not want to.

“I want to but I, are you sure?” Steve didn’t mean to push Bucky away and make it seem like he didn’t want to. It had been so long since he touched Bucky like that, and Bucky was still sensitive with touch. He didn’t want to scare him or hurt him without even meaning to. Then it wasn’t love, it was pain. Steve couldn’t allow his hands to do that to Bucky.

"Steve, please. I,” He sat up, putting himself closer to Steve. “I can finally make my own decisions and I promise I, I do. I’m not just saying it. If I want to stop,” He licked his lips. “I’ll tell you. Promise.”

Steve licked his lips, nodding. “I’ve really missed you, Buck.” He pressed his hand softly to Bucky’s cheek, his thumb tracing his defined cheekbone.

Bucky’s cheeks grew red. He leaned into the touch. “I’ve missed you too.” He brushed his soft lips down against Steve’s, kissing him so softly.

Steve kissed him back, as if Bucky was the most precious glass. His thumb softly stroked along Bucky’s cheekbone.

“I won’t break.” Bucky chuckled against Steve’s lips.

Steve nodded slightly, his nose brushing Bucky’s. “I know. You just deserve to be treated like diamonds.” He pulled Bucky into his lap as he kissed him again, his lips fervently moving along Bucky’s as if they were made for each other. They _were_ made for each other.

Steve could feel his erection coming back, pressing against the curve of Bucky’s ass that Bucky purposefully grounded down onto. Against his abs, he could feel Bucky hardening through his sweatpants. As Steve lifted his hips up slightly, Bucky moaned, biting against Steve’s lips. “I can’t.” Bucky breathed out.

Steve instantly pulled away. He wanted to keep going, but not if Bucky couldn’t. He would never push further. Steve nodded in understanding. But confusion flooded in his eyes at the look of confusion on Bucky’s face. “Why’d you stop?” Bucky ran his hands down Steve’s chest as if coaxing Steve back to touching him.

“You told me to?” It wasn’t meant to be a question, but it came out that way.

“No.” Bucky said quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that, I just,” He pulled Steve’s t-shirt up and off quickly, seizing his opportunity. “I can’t bottom. I want the control.” Bucky admitted, his cheeks tinting the most beautiful shade of pink. “I don’t want to feel overpowered. I don’t see it going…well.” He bit his lip looking down at Steve.

Steve nodded, “Fine with me.” He pressed a kiss to Bucky’s nose. His fingers ran down Bucky’s chest and torso until they reached the bottom of his t-shirt. Bucky tensed. Steve moved his hands to place them on top of Bucky’s thick thighs. “We don’t have to do this, Buck.” Steve said softly.

“I want to, I’m just not the same. Underneath my clothes. My head…” He looked down, watching Steve’s thumbs rub against his clothed thighs. “Just embarrassed.” Bucky admitted quietly.

Steve frowned. He remembered seeing some of the scars when he found him naked and trapped in his own mind while in the shower. That broke Steve's heart, but that didn't make Bucky any less beautiful. What made Steve angry underneath his own sadness was how Bucky admitted he was embarrassed. His tone of voice as if he _didn't_ get the scars against his own will. Steve needed to talk to Bucky about everything. It wasn't healthy for him to stay silent and hurting. Now was not the time for that conversation though. And Steve wanted to find resources for Bucky incase Bucky wasn't comfortable having that conversation with Steve.

Steve quickly pulled himself back to the heated moment. "I know that." He brushed a piece of hair from Bucky's face. "Do you remember what I told you that day about your scars?" Steve gave him a soft smile. He waited until Bucky's eyes met his. "They're yours and they make you even stronger, even more beautiful."

Bucky bit his lip, reaching down to pull his t-shirt off himself. Instantly, Steve’s breath hitched as he took it all in. Bucky’s physique had always been optimal, but Steve couldn’t believe it now. Partially because he never thought he would be doing _this_ again, the other part at how Bucky was even more beautiful than he remembered. Steve lifted his hand but froze it as his eyes scanned over every scar that littered Bucky’s torso. They were mostly on his left side, starting at his shoulder with red puffy skin with red scars vining out. Then down his left side, as if they had started to work into him to see if they could replace his bones with metal but didn’t. Only a few harsh red lines ran along the silken skin of his right side.

“You’re…” Steve breathed out, his finger slowly tracing down Bucky’s left side, following the line of a scar that squiggled around his ribcage. Bucky held his breath, tears filling his eyes. “Gorgeous. You are so unbelievably gorgeous.” Steve laid back against the pillows, Bucky still on his lap. He took in the radiating beauty of the man before him.

Bucky released his breath and smiled shyly. Leaning down, his lips brushed against Steve’s before moving to his jaw, kissing across the bearded skin before running his lips down to his pulse point. Sucking softly, bringing a moan from Steve’s lips.

Steve’s hands dipped below Bucky’s waistband, palming over his clothed erection. Bucky let out a soft moan against Steve’s collarbone. Smirking, he gave it a light squeeze. “See you grew a little bit with the serum too.”

"Not as much as yours but," Bucky shrugged, blushing. "Feels good." He bit his lip when Steve continued to palm over him.

"Missed me." He pulled Bucky's lips back to his.

Bucky pulled away laughing. "You're a weirdo."

Steve nodded proudly. "Pretty sure I got it from you."

Bucky pursed his lips. "Probably." He leaned down, kissing Steve this time with more intensity.

They stayed like this, kissing and touching, fingers tracing and pulling at each other’s skin. It was everything Steve had missed. The chemistry between the two of them, the comfortability to just make out half clothed was still there. It was beautiful the way that even their new physiques blended together like the perfect remedy. Steve could have done this for hours on end, but not Bucky. Bucky was eager. Pulling Steve’s sweatpants off, he raised an eyebrow when he realized Steve wasn’t wearing any underwear. Steve groaned as his erection bounced out against his abs.

“Well damn, Steviedoll.” Bucky ran his hands down Steve’s chest, his fingers giving each nipple a twist, sending a jolt of electric sensation through Steve. He shuddered under Bucky’s gentle yet rough fingertips.

Bucky continued tracing down to Steve’s hip bones. Lowering himself, he blew directly over Steve’s drooling cockhead. “It’s like you were waiting for me or something.” He gave the tip an innocent kiss.

Steve bucked his hips forward, Bucky pushing them back down against the bed. He took Steve into his mouth in one fluid motion and held down, gagging softly against the tip. Steve threw his head back into the pillows. It was a move Bucky always started with when they were younger, and it drove Steve crazy right from the get-go. He gripped the sheet beneath him.

Bucky bobbed his head, one hand tracing his waist before dipping down to squeeze Steve’s tight balls. Steve moaned quietly, relishing in the wet sucking sounds that Bucky’s lips made wrapped around him. “ _Shit_.” Steve hissed out as he resisted the urge to thrust his hips up.

Bucky pulled back, drool connecting them together. “Don’t try to be quiet.” Bucky gave Steve a lust driven look. “I haven’t had you in seventy years, don’t shy away from me now.” He started pumping his fist over Steve’s erection then stopped.

“Bucky!” Steve gasped, thrusting up once into Bucky’s fist trying to get him to keep going. He _needed_ it. Steve panted, his dick’s precome running down the side to pool onto Bucky’s too still fingers.

"Fuck into it.” Bucky smirked, his left arm reaching down to pull his sweatpants and boxers off.

Steve thrusted into his fist, feeling the warm wetness of Bucky’s palm. But, as he watched Bucky pull his pants off, he shuddered at his mind’s idea, dropping his hips to the bed. “C-Could you,” He bit his lip and looked down at Bucky’s metal limb.

Bucky took his left hand off his own erection and looked at Steve. “You want this one?”

Steve nodded, blushing. “Only if you’re comfortable with it.”

Bucky looked at his hand, then Steve’s dick. “I, yeah.” He put it around Steve.

“ _Fuck_ , that feels cold.” Steve thrust up into the metal fist. “Little tighter. You won’t hurt me, Buck.” Steve moaned out, thrusting up faster as Bucky squeezed his fist just the perfect amount.

Bucky moaned as he watched, palming at his own purpling erection. “Fuck, Steviedoll. You look so good like this.” He bit his lip. Steve watched as Bucky’s thumb swirled around his own cockhead.

Bucky licked a stripe down Steve’s perineum causing Steve to arch his back from the bed. “Fuck, Bucky.” Steve moaned, thrusting faster into Bucky’s hand.

Bucky adjusted his grip, loosening and tightening it carefully around Steve’s hard erection. Steve was a moaning mess, “ _Ah_ , fuck yeah.” He gripped the sheet tighter. “’M c-close Bucky.”

Bucky dropped Steve’s erections, it bounced down onto his abs before springing back up. “Not yet, Steviedoll.” He winked, placing an innocent kiss to the tip. 

Steve breathed hard, his jaw ajar. His erection throbbed, the precome pooling on his stomach. “P-Please Buck.”

Bucky shook his head. The lust filled eyes that Bucky possessed were dangerous.

Bucky dropped his own erection, moving his right hand to Steve’s small hole. “Do me a solid, baby.” Bucky asked as he popped his index finger into his mouth. Steve watched as he sucked on his finger, his tongue swirling around it within his mouth. Bucky took his finger out, making sure it would pop. “Grab me the lube?”

Steve nodded and leaned slightly to grab it from his bedside table drawer. As he did, he felt the cool wetness of Bucky’s flesh finger trace around Steve’s hole teasingly. Steve bit his lip, tossing the lube bottle at the end of the bed by Bucky.

Bucky took it and lubed up his index finger. He sent Steve a wink before his head dipped down, his tongue slipping into Steve’s tight hole. Steve gasped, feeling Bucky’s wet muscle swirl around the most intimate part of him.

Bucky didn’t let up. He lapped, sucked around the rim of Steve. His teeth lightly grazed the rim of Steve causing Steve to let out an animalistic moan. “ _Fuck_ , that was- that was so good.”

Bucky didn’t respond, just slipped his finger in next to his tongue. His finger pumped slowly in and out, going deeper and deeper with each thrust. His tongue continued to swirl top to bottom, left to right.

“Ah…” Steve breathed out. “More, baby, please.”

Bucky listened, his middle finger slipping in next to his index. Steve thrust down on his hand and tongue. “Yes!” He gasped, feeling the gentlest of presses to his prostate. He repeated the motion, feeling it again.

Bucky lifted his mouth, using now only his fingers. Steve admired his face, the way he was watching his fingers go in and out of Steve, his chin slightly shining with saliva and lube. His eyes cast down to allow his long eyelashes to rest closely to his cheeks.

“Mmm… You’re beautiful.” Steve moaned out.

Bucky blushed, looking up at Steve with a soft smile. “Look who’s talkin’.” He pushed his fingers deeper, scissoring them before pushing them against Steve’s prostate, holding them there.

Steve went rigid, his thighs shaking from the pleasure. “ _Oh_ _fuck_.” He threw his head back, his neck arching. “Fuck, right there.” 

Bucky’s left hand wrapped around Steve’s erection, his thumb pressing against the tip. “Wanna come, baby?” Bucky kissed around Steve’s chest.

“Yes.” Steve answered quickly. Bucky thrusted a third finger into Steve. “Please, Buck.” Steve’s body was red hot, a layer of sweat coating his skin.

Bucky swirled his tongue around Steve’s erect nipple. “You may.” Bucky breathed against it. He bit down then instantly soothed the bite with his tongue.

Steve gasped, his back arching as he was overcome with his orgasm. His come spurting onto his abdomen as Bucky helped him ride it out. His right hand still thrusted into him and his left hand wrapped around Steve. “That’s it, baby. Gosh, you’re so pretty when you come.” Bucky let go of his erection gently, slipping his fingers out slowly. “The prettiest.” He kissed the tears off of Steve’s tear clumped eyelashes.

Steve whimpered from the loss of contact. “God, I missed you.” He said breathily.

Bucky smiled. “Got a condom for me, Stevie?”

Steve nodded, eagerly reaching over to grab a condom. He handed it to Bucky.

“How do you want me?” He tore the package open and rolled it onto his red-hot erection.

“Just like this.” Steve spread his legs for Bucky to move between them while he remained on his back.

Traditional style was one of his favorite positions, but he had a good reason. Sure, he liked to get creative with Bucky, but this position allowed him to _see_ him. Steve loved looking at Bucky, taking in every inch of his raw beauty. The way he would moan, his eyes squeezed shut. The way he would bite his lip when he was sliding into Steve. This position allowed Steve to not miss a second of Bucky enjoying himself just as much as he was. He couldn’t think of a better position to be in in this moment than this one.

Bucky moved in between Steve’s legs and grabbed a pillow, placing it underneath him. “Can’t have the great Captain getting injured during sex, now can we?” Bucky teased.

Steve laughed, adjusting his body against the pillow. “Suppose not.” He wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist, his heels resting against the curve of Bucky’s ass.

“Tell me if I hurt you.” Bucky poured a generous amount of lube over his erection and Steve’s hole.

“I will.” Steve promised.

Bucky let his tip ghost over Steve’s hole. “Teasing you is still something I enjoy.”

"Yeah, I can tell.” Steve groaned, wiggling his hips. “Please, Buck. I need you.”

Bucky leaned down, placing his forehead against Steve’s. “I need you too.” He captured Steve’s mouth in a kiss as he slowly pushed in.

Steve moaned, the sensation of being so full by the love of his life once more over stimulating his nerves. He could feel tears welling in his eyes from both the sting and the love. This moment, he never wanted to forget this moment.

Bucky was slow, watching Steve’s face. He froze halfway in. “Baby,” He caught Steve’s tears.

“I love you.” Steve breathed out, his hands reaching up to cup Bucky’s face. “Keep going, it feels good. I just love you.”

Bucky blushed, biting his bottom lip as he continued to push into Steve. “I…fuck.” He dropped his head onto Steve’s shoulder. “You feel _so_ good. So tight.” Bucky groaned out, moving his hips in small, close thrusts.

Steve thrust his hips gently, matching the rhythm with Bucky. Their lips sloppily kissing, catching each other’s moans and words of affection and pleasure.

“Faster, Buck.” Steve begged, leaning his head back. Bucky seized the opportunity to connect his lips to the base of Steve’s throats. He picked up the pace of his hips as he sucked a small mark into Steve’s skin.

Steve moaned, his hands coming down to grip Bucky’s waist. “R-right there, Buck.” He moaned out as Bucky nailed against his prostate. “’M close.” Steve thrust with Bucky.

Bucky’s bottom lip was bit swollen red. “You feel so good, Steviedoll.” Bucky leaned his forehead against Steve’s once more. Their sweat causing their heads to slip slightly against one another. “’M close too.” His words were slurred with pleasure.

Bucky went faster, harder. His left hand reached out to grip Steve’s crying erection, fucking his fist over him at the pace of his unrelenting thrusts.

“ _Oh_ … Oh, God, Buck.” Steve moaned, feeling the familiar sensation of heat start to overflow within his body.

Bucky looked down, watching his hand. “Come on, baby.” Bucky all but whined.

Steve burst, his orgasm painting their chests and drooling down onto Bucky’s hand. Bucky continued to fist Steve’s cock through his orgasm as he thrust faster into Steve’s body, chasing for his own release. After a few more thrusts, Bucky came, slowly thrusting into Steve’s overstimulated body through his own release.

Bucky kissed across Steve’s face, catching his tears and lips. “I do too.” Bucky said out of nowhere. “I love you.” His pupils were relaxing in his eyes, revealing the waves of blue.

Steve rolled them onto their sides, facing each other. He brushed some hair from Bucky’s face. “I love you so much.”

Bucky reached down and pulled his condom off, tying it off and throwing into the trashcan by Steve’s desk, making it. “Damn, I’m good.” Bucky smirked. Turning his attention back to a chuckling Steve, he smiled proudly. “I missed this.” He traced his finger up the curve of Steve’s side.

“I never thought we would have this again.” Steve admitted, lacing his fingers with Bucky’s other hand.

Bucky bit his lip, squeezing Steve’s hands. His fingers continued to trace Steve’s side. “Even after you found me?”

Steve nodded, his eyes regretful. “I always believed in you, Buck. That you’d recover, I just,” He shrugged a shoulder. “I never wanted you to feel you had to come back to me.” 

Bucky pushed himself into Steve, his head resting against his heartbeat. “Do you remember that sun and moon art you did of me?”

Steve nodded, placing his lips against the top of Bucky’s head. “What about it?”

Bucky wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist. “I’m the moon and you’re the sun. I bring a lot of rawness and darkness.” Bucky looked up into Steve’s eyes. “But you bring light and goodness. One can’t live without the other, just like I couldn’t live without you.” Bucky smiled softly, his eyes watering. “The hell Hydra put me through still led me back to you. Just as each day the moon may bring a night of pain, but a sun will always rise to try to bring light. You,” Bucky placed a kiss onto Steve’s chin. “You are my light.”

\--

The next morning, the sunlight filtered through onto Bucky’s face through unfamiliar curtains. Turning in Steve’s embrace, he shoved his face into his chest to block out the light.

He thought back to the night before. How he had a cold sweat of fear permanently shimmering his skin until he left the house. The whole process had been terrifying. He had run, taking back streets and thankful to have mostly concealed himself with clothes. He didn’t even get lost as he navigated his way through the tower to avoid cameras. Part of him was relieved that the Winter Soldier gave him the memories of the tower but hated that he had to use the Soldier as a useful resource.

Then he got to Steve’s floor and the night took a turn he hadn’t expected. He was glad, now for more reasons than one, that his floor wasn’t monitored. He didn’t need anybody seeing him there or hearing them in their activities.

Those activities. A slight shiver shot up Bucky’s spine.

Bucky curled himself closer to Steve at the thought of how their two souls had merged into one. The way that Steve’s sunshine and bright soul encased his cold, dark one. He thought back to the art Steve had drew, depicting him with the moon as if he was the keeper of darkness. Now he felt like he held some sunlight. Steve gave him that, connected with him in a way he never thought he would have again. The way that Steve’s hands caressed his skin as if he was the most valuable human alive. Not a monster, no not what Hydra made him. He was a valued assassin to them. But Steve gave him something else. Gave him life, through his soul and his fingers, his lips and his body. Bucky felt tears wet his eyes at the feeling of being so _loved_.

“Hey.” Steve’s groggy voice came, his fingers playing with Bucky’s hair. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He placed his other hand under Bucky’s chin. He tilted his head up in response.

Bucky bit his lip, trying to will the tears away. He couldn’t believe his eyes would betray him like this, but part of him wasn’t surprised. Since he allowed his emotions to be felt and to be shown, his body was just taking advantage of being in control again. Bucky just shook his head, a lone tear falling down his cheek now that his face wasn’t buried in Steve’s skin.

Steve wiped it away gingerly. “Are you hurt?” Steve’s hand moved from his hair down his back. “Was last night too much?”

Bucky shook his head adamantly as he felt the delicious soreness in his thighs that thrummed within his whole body. He never wanted the feeling to go away, wondering if anytime it started to subdue that Steve would just touch him again, and again, and again. “No. I’m just… I feel good.” _Loved_. He sniffled, wiping at his eyes with his flesh hand. 

Steve smiled softly, dropping a kiss onto his forehead. “I do too, baby.” He traced small figure eights along the naked base of Bucky’s back, his fingers dipping into the dimples. “You ready to get up? We can shower before I make us some breakfast if you want?”

Bucky groaned in response, never wanting to leave the safety of Steve’s smooth sheets and warm skin that encased him. “What time is it?” His words were still slurred with sleep. 

“About eight.” Steve stretched his legs out and yawned.

“Too early.” Bucky muttered through his own yawn.

Steve chuckled. “Did you sleep okay?”

Bucky nodded. “Actually, yeah.” He draped one of his arms over Steve’s waist. He couldn’t remember the last time he woke up naturally and not from a night terror. Maybe it was because of the nightly activities, or maybe it was just because being around Steve allowed Bucky to feel safe. Bucky couldn’t sleep on edge, but he could sleep when he knew that nothing would happen to him. He was able to let his guard down when he was with Steve. That level of trust between two people was one that Bucky forgot was even possible, yet here it was beating within their entwined souls.

Bucky leaned up, pressing a kiss to Steve's chin. Steve smiled and leaned down to kiss Bucky on the lips. As the intensity of their kiss, morning breath be damned, grew more passionate, Bucky shifted up. He moved until he was lazily straddling Steve's waist. 

Steve's hands came up to give a squeeze to Bucky's waist before running his hands up and down his thighs. Bucky could feel Steve growing underneath his ass and ground down. After last night, the feeling wasn't as nerve racking for him.

Bucky gripped Steve's chest, his fingers toying with the nipples to pull a soft mewling from Steve. Bucky leaned down, licking a stripe across the nipple before sucking it into his mouth.

"Oh my God." Steve arched into Bucky's touch.

Bucky pulled off with a pop. Kissing and nibbling along the skin, he reached Steve's other nipple and sucked it into his mouth. As he swirled his tongue, the sound of the elevator's _ding_ froze his mouth's movements _._

Bucky’s eyes were wide as he leaned up to face Steve who looked just as shocked. He could hear his inner alarm blaring at him to get up, hide, escape through the window. Except, both of them were still naked with only blankets barely covering them. There would be no time. Neither of them moved.

Steve drew in a quiet breath. “It has to be Sam.”

Bucky’s eyes grew as Steve just nodded once to Bucky as if that would make Sam coming in all better.

“Yo, Steve!” Came Sam’s voice. “No way you aren’t up yet.” He heard Sam’s voice lace with confusion before footsteps started toward Steve’s room. 

"Shit!" Bucky whisper yelled, moving to the side of Steve and pulling a blanket over both of them. Friend or not, Sam was the last person he wanted to see in this state. If it were Sam, Bucky was definitely going to tease him. He would make Sam forever knock and ask to come back to visit them again. He'd make this awkward situation worth it. 

His mind froze, repeating the phrase "visit them again". Bucky's heart throbbed at the thought. He wouldn't be allowed to stay here, there really was no them. Not in a place with the other Avengers who were after his head. Him staying would be serving it to them on a silver platter, apple in mouth. He forced the feeling down. He didn't want to ruin his euphoric morning with Steve with their very real problems. That was for later. Sam could bring awkwardness now, but Bucky refused to bring sadness. Not if he could help it. 

Steve groaned, covering his face as a full body blush spread through him. Bucky loved that blush. He wished he could still be straddling Steve’s waist and causing that blush to spread through him as he-

“Steve you-Oh hello!” Sam instantly smirked. “Am I interrupting a reunion?” He pointed between them, wigging his eyebrows.

“Would have if you’d been here last night.” Bucky smirked, winking.

Steve whined into his hand. “This has to be one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.”

Sam laughed, shooting a smirk to Bucky in silent telling. Redirecting his attention to Steve, he started, “So, tell me, two super soldiers, the sex must be-”

Steve sat up, the blanket pooling to his waist. “Remind me to tell FRIDAY that you now have to ask for permission again to come here.”

Sam faked shock, putting a hand to his chest. “You always love my company at any time! Suddenly Winter Good Dick over here shows and,” Bucky snorted in response, “You don’t want my random drop overs?” He walked over and high fived Bucky’s outstretched hand.

Steve shook his head at them. “I thought I wanted you two friends, but now I see I was wrong.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Let us get dressed and we’ll be right out.”

Sam nodded and walked out of the room. “I brought bagels!” He called.

Bucky looked at Steve, then the door, then back at Steve. “Do we have to? We could give him a show?”

“You know what, Buck?” Steve got up, grabbing a pair of boxers and sweatpants, tossing them to Bucky. “You’re something else.” He pulled his own pair of clean boxers on.

Bucky laughed, pulling the clean clothes on. “It was just an innocent suggestion.”

“You and your sex on display-” Steve cut himself off, pulling his t-shirt on.

Bucky paused, replaying the words in his mind. Suddenly, he gasped. "Hey!" He grinned, shocked and excited that his mind was able to push a memory to the forefront so quickly.

Steve’s head whipped toward Bucky. “You remember that?”

_“Steviedoll, tell me that doesn’t sound perfect.”_

_“It doesn’t.”_

_Bucky groaned. “I don’t see any issues.”_

_"It’s illegal, genius.”_

_“For no reason!” Bucky retorted._

_"Bucky, we are not, under any circumstances, having sex in the compound.”_

_Bucky rolled his eyes. He hated when Steve pulled out the “Captain America” voice to try to win arguments lately. Bucky had always hinted at how, if they ever could, having sex in public would be thrilling. Bucky was open with sex, even if his sexuality was deemed illegal for “reasons” that he would never fully grasp._

_Except, every time he even hinted at it, Steve would snort and tell him that anytime they were having sex, it was already a secret and thrilling because if they were caught, it would be bad._

_“If it’s night and nobody is there, it’ll be fine.”_

_Steve shook his head, an incredulous look on his face. “We can do it here, quietly, but not there where Peggy, or Howard, or anybody else could come in and see.”_

_Bucky threw his head back into the lumpy pillow on Steve’s cot. “Only threat is Howard or Peggy, and they wouldn’t mind!”_

_"That’s seriously what you take from that? My God, Buck, you are insatiable.”_

Bucky nodded. “You know, if memory serves me right, which,” Bucky shrugged, tilting his head in a ‘who the fuck knows’ way, “Then I feel you were being unreasonable.”

“I am not going back in time to have this conversation.” Steve shook his head, placing a quick kiss to Bucky’s lips. “For the record, you wanted to try sex in open places, and you wanted to use things.” He winked at Bucky. “Since we’re on the topic.”

“Still do.” Bucky shrugged as he stepped out of Steve’s room.

Steve shook his head, walking next to but slightly behind Bucky. “Are you ever satisfied?” He muttered teasingly under his breath. There was a sparkle of knowing in those shiny blue eyes.

"With you," Bucky turned and ran his hand down Steve's clothed chest. "Always. I'm just kind of... my heads so fucked now I," Bucky shrugged a shoulder. "Kind of have some newer ideas than I did back then. Who knows, I could be kinkier now than then" He felt his dick twitch in his sweatpants at the thought of Steve blindfolded while Bucky gave him everything he wanted, needed, but only what Bucky would allow himself to give Steve.

Steve’s eyes softened but filled with an emotion Bucky couldn’t quite decipher. Concern maybe, mixed with lust? A heady mix that made Bucky’s dick want to go hard, but Bucky had more control over his body than to allow a boner right before they were going to see Sam.

Bucky hadn't wished to make Steve concerned though. But Bucky was just being honest. His head was constantly scrambled, there would be highs and then it was like it was thrown into a blender when a terrible memory took over. To that, not much surprised him or scared him anymore. He was pretty set on allowing himself to try anything in the bedroom to any degree because he knew, deep down, he could take anything.

“Tabling this conversation.” Steve said in a tone that made Bucky suddenly feel like a child.

Sam sat at Steve’s small kitchen table, asiago cheese bagel in hand. “Not that I’m mad that Barnes is here,” He handed Steve an everything bagel with cream cheese. “But it’s concerning to me that he is.” He handed the bag containing three more bagels to Bucky. “Take whatever you want. I always get extra because Steve can eat.”

“Blame the serum.” Steve unwrapped his bagel. Getting up, he poured himself a cup of coffee, then one for Bucky. “Want cream? Sugar?”

Bucky shook his head. “Thanks.” He said taking his black coffee. He unwrapped his blueberry bagel with cream cheese. His stomach growled, it looked delicious.

Sam took a sip of his own coffee and looked at Steve, then to Bucky. “Is nobody going to answer me? I bring bagels bought with love and I get ignored?”

“I saw someone at the house.” Bucky watched as Sam’s eyes widened slightly, but Bucky could tell he was trying to keep a straight face. “I thought maybe it was in my head, but don’t think so if I really think about it.”

Steve swallowed a bite of bagel. “We need to check the footage.”

Sam nodded. “If somebody did manage a way in, we need to put Bucky somewhere else.”

“He can stay here.” Steve said quickly, earning a jaw drop from Bucky and a look from Sam. “Makes no difference now, he’s already here!” Steve protested. “Which is fine. Tony never woke up meaning FRIDAY never signaled him meaning nobody knows he got in. My floor isn’t monitored, he’s safer here than anywhere else.”

Sam pondered this and rolled his eyes. “I hate that that’s honestly the best answer right now.” He bit into his bagel.

Bucky shook his head. His mind and heart in a war within his body. His mind was screaming to leave, telling him he put Steve in danger being here. But his heart, his heart cried, weeping inside him at the thought of leaving Steve for who knows how long. He could feel the emotion bubbling inside him like a bottle bursting. He bunched his hands into fists. It shouldn’t have to be this way. When they were kids, hiding from the world was much easier than what their hiding was now. He never thought he would miss the homophobic, unrelenting cruelty that they sometimes endured in the 40s, but here he was. The times were actually _simpler_ back then. He had two arms, a brain that wasn’t a pile of mush that sunk deep into the depths of his skull. He was whole, human. He wasn’t a robot like he is now. A robot with baggage so heavy he couldn’t imagine putting it onto Steve.

He felt more emotion overflow into him when he realized he already _was_ putting that onto Steve. Allowing himself to go with Steve when Steve found him, allowing himself to tell Steve some of the horrendous things, allowing Steve to take the files from the warehouse. He was doing all of this. He looked down at his hands that were balled into fists. His knuckles of his flesh hand were white and for a split second he wondered what would happen if the bones just popped out from the skin. The tight skin breaking away, replaced by the creamy white of his bones. But that would never happen in his left hand would it? That was far gone now, and he hated that it was. He hated knowing that his inner fights between the two different persons possessing his single being were seen to the outside world as well all because of that _damned arm._

He was retreating so far back into his head, and he felt it. He felt the walls breaking around him as darkness consumed him. He imagined sitting in the darkness of his mind, the deep red walls like a dungeon. He wrapped his arms around himself protectively, but he didn’t know if he was really doing it or imagining it. He was so far from the room he was in with Steve.

Steve.

The whole reason he fell into the back of his head like it would give him an answer on how to save Steve. It was the one thing he knew how to do- the one thing he _thought_ he knew how to do. Growing up, he saved Steve all the time. Whether it be from a man twice his size who just wanted to be an ignorant ass and Steve couldn’t ignore it- _bless his heart_ , Bucky thought. He always admired the heart and bravery in Steve- even now. It never left Steve. Steve was always Steve. No matter how big he got, the fame that followed him, he never lost himself.

But Steve never wanted the fame. Bucky knew that. Bucky could barely remember the times that Steve would sit in his cot, the red, white, and blue becoming nauseating against Steve’s skin. Steve would be so focused on the mission that he would brush off Bucky. But only for a second before he would pull Bucky onto his lap and say he was just busy. Bucky knew that Steve needed to hold the image of the nation on his shoulders. Was that what he wanted? No. He wanted to actually fight in the war for the right reasons. But Bucky, Bucky was drafted to fight in a war he didn’t want to fight in. He had just wanted to just grow old with Steve, even if it was by the side of a dame he didn’t truly love. It would have never been fair to her to give her artificial love, but it was for both his and Steve’s survival and safety. For that, he would do anything.

And he did. He became a murder machine.

He could feel his pulse quickening, his brain throbbing around him as his thoughts spiraled down erratically. His mind was moving so fast- Steve being the center focus. He could feel the thoughts all screaming out at once, pushing to be heard. As they were, they were trying to drown out any thoughts, memories from the Winter Soldier.

One wouldn’t stop screeching over. 

The way he killed Starks parents. The look on his face, hollow and empty, accurately depicting the state he was in during the murder. The way he looked out as Mrs. Stark took her final breath against the metal hand that ended her life in a single crush. Not that he could feel it, for the hand was ungiving and unfeeling when it was doing what it was made to do. Bucky hated the memory, he hated knowing he did something so terrible. What made this memory worse than the countless other murders was he killed a _friend_. He admired Howard Stark. He always had, even seeing his flying car fail he was still honored to witness that.

Then he killed him.

Killed a man who recognized him from his past. Bucky had wanted to remember, the Winter Soldier repeating the words "Sergeant Barnes" in his head before spitting them out. Bucky could see his name, hear the words. He would scream for release, but the scream would never reach lips that he once possessed. He wasn't there, he wasn't loud enough or strong enough to force out the pain and electric volts that put him away to allow the Soldier to come out. 

He needed to tell Steve. But how? It would ruin everything. But he needed to. His conscience would feel better. His mind and heart yelled at each other more. Bucky felt like a child standing in the middle of two adults fighting. He wanted to cry, kick. He wanted out.

Bucky flinched as water consumed him. It was wrapping around him, melting his mind away from its hold on him. He was coming back to the present. He blinked a few times, the room coming back into view. It wasn’t the kitchen; it was the bathroom. He looked down, still fully clothed, sitting in a bathtub of cold water. Rather laying in it, with a heavy breathing and concerned looking Steve holding him by the shoulders.

“Bucky?” He squeezed his shoulders, preparing to dunk him underneath the bath for Bucky assumed the second time.

Bucky nodded once, his mind still reeling and piecing back together.

“Thank God.” Sam said from somewhere in the room.

As Bucky pulled himself back together, he looked over at Sam, then back to Steve.

"You went…. Away.” Steve said carefully. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Bucky stretched his fingers out and shook the water from his hair like a wet dog. “I, I do that sometimes. This helped.”

Steve helped Bucky stand up and offered him a towel. “I can get you some new clothes.” He pressed a soft kiss to Bucky’s temple, lingering slightly before walking out of the room.

“You okay?” Sam asked, leaning against the wall by the door. His eyes were filled with concern as they took in Bucky.

“I, yeah.” He bit his lip and looked in the doorway. “Sam, I,” He stopped. Could he tell Sam he killed Starks. Maybe he could, then Sam could help him with how to approach Steve about it. That wasn’t breaking trust with Steve, was it?

“You can tell me; I won’t tell Steve.” Sam said softly. “We’re friends, Bucky.”

Bucky believed it; Sam called him Bucky. After telling him it felt too personal, he did it. It was a step in their friendship. Bucky could trust him. He needed to tell somebody. “I killed Mr. and Mrs. Stark.” He whispered so softly he wondered if Sam even heard his confession.

As he looked up, he knew Sam had heard. His jaw was dropped, and his eyes were wide. “No.” Sam shook his head. “You didn’t. They died in a car accident.”

“I ran it off the road.” Bucky could feel his brain thrum, the image of his motorcycle colliding with the front side of the car came into view. “Then I killed them separate from it.” He choked out through his memory’s haze.

Sam didn’t say anything, so Bucky continued, “What makes it worse is that he called me Sargent Barnes.” His voice was wavering. It felt like a chunk of the boulder placed on his chest was taken off, but the pressure still remained the same.

Sam peeked out the door and saw Steve coming. “We can talk later.” He said, his voice a mix of shock and sincerity. Bucky looked down at his feet, no wonder him and Steve were best friends- their hearts were both so big.

Steve handed Bucky dry clothes. “You sure you’re okay?”

Bucky nodded and accepted the clothes. He ignored the look of apprehension on Steve’s face.

Steve didn’t push it. “You can change and meet us back in the kitchen. Or you can lay down if that would be better. Sam and I are going to pull up the cameras from the safe house.” 

Bucky nodded once. “I’ll be out.” 

He waited until they both left, and the door clicked shut to let out a shaky breath. He gripped onto the sink, mindful of his left hands intense grip. His mind for the most part felt back into the present. He looked at his reflection, the bags under his eyes. The morning had been so nice, the night before even better. He ran his hands through his hair. “Do not cry.” He told himself.

Changed into dry clothes, he padded out into the kitchen. Sam’s voice filling the air. “I’m enhancing it as much as I can Steve, but I can’t make it out. It’s too dark.”

"Didn’t we buy the best cameras we could?

Sam sighed. “Yes, but this guy dressed dark to make sure we wouldn’t see him. He’s in step with us, potentially a step ahead.”

“Well we need to be two ahead.” Steve snapped, rubbing at his chest.

“There was somebody for sure?” Bucky tentatively asked, slipping back into his chair and taking a sip of his now cold coffee.

Sam nodded. “Looks like a man. He dressed dark so it’s hard to tell who. I’m taking it frame by frame.”

“He looks too big to be Zemo.” Steve added.

Bucky, with a mouth full of bagel, looked over at the screen. “The features on this guy were sharp too. Even in the dark I noticed.”

“Sharp, big guy. Could be anybody.” Sam cracked his neck and watched the screen frames.

Steve’s eyes glazed over, and a small gasp escaped his lips. “No, it couldn’t. Give me the screen.” He took the laptop from Sam and started moving through the frames slower. He froze it when he got a sliver of a face. “That’s Rumlow.”

Sam looked over at the screen. Bucky watched as his face gave away the recognition just as Steve’s had. “Fuck.”

“It is, isn’t it? I’ve never trusted him.” Steve shook his head with anger. “Be he has sharp edges and he’s tall like this guy. It would make sense.” He zoomed in on the frame. “Look at the glimpse of jaw.”

Sam nodded, looking closer at the grainy zoomed in image. “Looks a hell of a lot like him.”

Bucky looked between them. His blood forming ice at the way it chilled at the name. _Rumlow_. That man was terrifying. Bucky was strong, the Soldier even stronger. But if the Soldier or any form of Bucky's being stepped out of line, Rumlow was there. He was ready to challenge because he was convinced he could take the Soldier down. Bucky didn't want him involved in this.

“You two know him?” The words left Bucky’s lips slowly, still processing this.

“You do?” Steve asked, malice slicing through his words.

Bucky looked down at his bagel. “He was around.” He didn’t go into any detail. After his mind retreat and now finding out somebody definitely penetrated into his “safe” space, _somebody dangerous,_ the last thing he needed was to plague Steve with more negative and bring more negative to the front of his own head.

“I’ll kill him.” Steve said too easily, too quickly.

“You will not kill anybody.” Sam retorted. He turned to Bucky, eyes softening. “He works here. Not an Avenger, a guard.”

They sat in a few long moments of silence. Bucky could feel his mind flooding with white noise to fill it. Steve sat up quickly, his hands flying up. “I can stage something to expose Rumlow. Or I could talk to Tony,”

“And tell him what?” Sam interjected. “We found Bucky a year ago and kept him in a safe house? He’s innocent and Rumlow showed up?” He shook his head. “That’d go over terribly, and you know it.”

Bucky was listening, but at the mention of Tony and the anxiety rushing through him, he needed to tell Steve. No better time than now when things were already shitty. Or at least Bucky would use that to finally admit his nightmare.

“Steve.” Bucky whispered, causing both Steve and Sam to look over at him. Bucky felt his words were already toxic in the air, the unsaid already plaguing the room with trauma. “I need to tell you something.”

“About Rumlow?” Steve asked.

“No. I uh,” Bucky rubbed at the back of his neck. He caught Sam’s eye and was gifted with a reassuring, small smile. Bucky was grateful to have Sam as a friend, even if Sam did drive him crazy.

“I killed Starks.”

Steve’s eyebrows rose to the hairline. “You, they died in an accident?”

So, Bucky told the story, the whole story. He didn’t leave out any details. He ran the car off the road, he checked the trunk, he killed Howard after being recognized by him, then killed his wife, shot the camera, and fled. His skin crawled and he swore he could feel a lifeless pulse against his metal hand. He said it all, stopping only when he had nothing else left to say. Steve deserved to know. Even though the words seared Bucky’s skin as he spoke, he said them anyway.

Steve bit his lip, completely silent. He didn’t say anything for a while. Bucky could tell Steve was working through the load of information. “We don’t tell anybody.” He looked at Sam. “Nobody needs to know this.” He turned his attention back to Bucky. “It wasn’t you Bucky. Hydra had control of your mind, your hands. None of that was your fault.” He reached out and squeezed Bucky’s flesh hand. His heart jumped at the loving contact. “Thank you for telling me. You are so strong to go through all of that and still be able to come out you. I’m proud of you.”

Bucky felt his heart flutter under the praise and his tear ducts kick on. “Thank you.” He breathed out squeezing Steve’s hand.

As they sat there discussing the intruder to Bucky’s space, FRIDAY interjected. “Captain, Falcon, Black Widow has requested a visit.”

Bucky shot out of his chair. “What the fuck was that?”

“The surveillance. Don’t worry, it’s talking to me, but it can’t tell you’re here.” Steve reassured, smiling softly at Bucky’s response to the voice in the walls.

“It knows Sam is here.” Bucky threw his arms up.

“Because it knows I’m here because I still had to ask the elevator to get here.” Sam got up. “Go into Steve’s room. Natasha won’t go in there, right?” 

Steve nodded. “And if you hear footsteps toward it, hide in the bathroom, or closet or something.” He got up and gave Bucky a quick hug. “You’ll be okay.”

Bucky nodded once, but he didn’t feel that he would be okay. Natalia, Natasha now, was a badass in all the best ways, Bucky would know- he helped _train_ her. The thought of her catching him sent shivers up his spine.

All he could do was go into Steve’s room and shut the door behind him. Now he waited, alone.

\--

Steve knew he shouldn't have been avoiding Natasha like he had been since the warehouse. But what choice did he have? All of his energy and focus was on Bucky. He couldn't risk a slip up of any of the knowledge he had that he wasn't really supposed to. What would she do if she knew Bucky was safe and innocent? Would she even believe him? She was his best friend too, just like Sam. He wanted to hope she would believe what Steve told her. But then again, she could think he's just being bias like Tony did because it's Bucky.

He thought he had no choice but to distance himself from Natasha. It would only be temporary. He really did care about her more. Steve cared about T'Challa too. He wished more than anything he was meeting the King for a different, more joyous reason though. And Zemo, Steve would never trust that guy.

“She can come in.” Steve said and looked at Sam. “Wish I could decline her without her just finding a way in.” 

Sam nodded, snorting slightly. “Nobody can shake that woman.”

Natasha stepped out of the elevator. She was dressed in dark blue jeans and had on a dark grey hoodie with her hands stuffed in the front pocket. Her red hair was neatly braided down and hanging over her left shoulder toward the front. She walked in, scanning the floor before approaching Sam and Steve at the table. “You two.” She sat down in the seat that once held Bucky. “You two are quite cozy. Spend a lot of time together.” She pulled her hands from her pocket.

“Yeah well friends do that. You and Steve do.” Sam shrugged a shoulder.

"Not recently. Not since everything with Barnes." She raised a perfect eyebrow toward Steve. There a hint of hurt in her voice that made Steve frown.

He knew Natasha would be upset; he just didn't know what to say that wouldn't compromise him. "Just been hard, you have to understand that." 

She nodded once and sat back in the chair. "So," She looked down at the bag of bagels and the coffee mugs. The _three_ mugs. "I found out there was a security issue last night." She watched as Steve's face began to crumble. "Pretty sure I'm the only one who knows."

Steve felt his blood congeal as he sat up a little straighter. “Was anybody hurt?” He asked, trying to keep any suspicion from his voice. He was a terrible liar, and one wrong move could reveal the truth of what had been going on for weeks, months.

“Depends.” She gave Steve a small smirk. “Would you like to address the noises that came from your bedroom early this morning that somehow, I could hear on my floor?”

Steve’s jaw dropped. His surveillance monitoring was supposed to be off, and the walls were sound proofed when it was. Nobody should have heard anything that Steve and Bucky did last night. Nobody should have been able to hear the words spoken on his floor, not by anybody who wasn't on it. Somebody had turned Steve's cameras and audio back on. Steve dropped his head into his hands. There was no turning back from this.

Natasha was the floor above him. She shouldn't have been able to hear it neither meaning her surveillance was also reinstated. Sam was below him, but he hadn't said anything. Maybe his surveillance was still off. But why would it have been if whoever turned them back on turned on Steve's _and_ Natasha's? Which left Steve wondering why his was on now? And Natasha's now of all times?

Steve squeezed the palms of his hands into his eyes when he realized why. It was easy. His and the floors surrounding his were turned on because whoever did this wanted them to know. They wanted _Natasha_ to know.

“I turned the surveillance back off.” She said quickly. “I don’t know how it got turned back on for your floor, or mine, or Sam’s.”

Steve forced his head out of his palms. His head felt too heavy for his neck to support. He felt like a sucker- both literally and figuratively.

“Mine turned back on?” Sam looked at Steve then back to Natasha. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“You must be a deep sleeper then because I heard _far_ too much.” She folded her hands together.

Steve’s brain was now in full panic mode, fire erupting in the core of it as he figured out what to do. Yet, there was nothing he could do. He would sit and wait for Natasha to drop the bomb that she knew Bucky was there. It was inevitable not to.

She puckered his lips. “Turned it back off after you woke me. Had to change some coding around which I have yet to tell Tony. He didn’t say anything so I’m assuming this little secret doesn’t need to go far.” She caught Steve’s eye. “I’m only going to ask you this once Steve.” Steve braced himself for the blow. “Is James really here?”

Steve felt the air get tense as the air from his longs fell out of him. His own worry now swam in the newly thick air. Sam's too. He felt guilt twist into his gut for allowing Sam to be this involved.

She leaned back in the chair, peering down Steve’s hallway. “Once I heard some very interesting renditions of his name, I wondered how it was possible. After all, there was no sign of him getting in here.” Her tone was so calm and collected that it made the scene before Steve all the more terrifying.

Sam shot Steve a look, his lips sealed tight shut. Sam, a man so good with words and revealing truths so gently, was at a loss for words. If that didn’t scream the severity of the situation to Steve, nothing would.

“I had no idea, Steve.” Natasha continued to talk, piercing soft yet unrelenting daggers into Steve’s skin. “I knew he was important to you but,”

“Nat-”

“Did he stay for bagels?” She asked, gesturing to the bagel company brown paper bag sitting on the table.

Steve looked down at his hands and fisted them together. “You aren’t taking him.” He said quietly, his voice much darker than he intended but he was grateful it was. Natasha could hold her own against Steve and right now, Steve couldn’t hold back. Natasha was in with Zemo, potentially Rumlow through association. He couldn’t let her take Bucky back to his living hell. 

Natasha nodded once and went to stand up.

Sam extended an arm in front of her. “Don’t.”

“You’ll be coming for an innocent man’s head.” Steve said softly, his hands rubbing raw against each other.

She sat back down and looked at Steve. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked, her voice holding a slight tremor. She seemed so genuinely hurt that Steve couldn’t help but wish he _had_ told her everything.

“Because you would have turned him in. Me in too.”

“And me.” Sam looked at Steve. “I took too much of a liking to Barnes to not fight for him.”

Natasha cocked her head. “A liking? How long have you known him?” She asked Sam.

Sam turned to Steve with a look asking permission to spill details they had worked so hard to keep secret. Steve took a deep breath and shook his head. “Nat, I trust you,”

“If you did, wouldn’t you have told me?” She was looking at Steve with so much raw emotion.

“I don’t trust Zemo. What I tell you could trickle down to him and I… I can’t allow that to happen.”

“What’s wrong with Zemo?” Natasha asked, then reached her hand out to Steve. “I put your room offline, you can tell me what’s going on. I’m not, I’m not going to hand you over. Or James.”

Steve nodded, his eyes welling with tears at the tone of sincerity and care that Natasha used. “He was one of Bucky’s handlers.” Steve began. “A year ago, when I found out Bucky was alive, I went after him. Sam helped me. And we found him.” He rubbed at his face. “Put him up in a safe house which, Brock Rumlow found him and that’s how he ended up here. We didn’t know it was Brock until this morning when we looked at surveillance.”

Steve nodded, his ears still feeling weird at hearing Bucky be referred to by his first name by anybody other than his parents.

"So how did the bombing happen if you had him?”

“He didn’t do it.” Sam interjected. “He was at the safe house. When we showed up accusing him, he said it was impossible and when he saw the picture he got, well he got scared.” Sam honestly said. “And I tell you from meeting him and the horrors he’s seen, not much will scare him. But that did.”

Natasha nodded, her green eyes scanning the hallway that led to Steve’s bedroom. “You should be grateful I was the only one who heard you two.”

"Can I see him?” She asked. Her emerald eyes were glimmering with tears. “It’s been a long time and I never _actually_ got to meet him.”

“Did he ever show signs of being anybody but the Winter Soldier?” Sam asked as Steve stood up.

Natasha gave Steve eyes that begged him for forgiveness. She nodded gently.

Steve felt his heart clench in his chest. He had never known until recently, after his long friendship with Natasha, that she even knew who Bucky was during his Hydra days. She could have told him he was alive after finding out who Bucky was to Steve. She never did. She led Steve to believe he was truly gone. Even when Bucky was found she told him he wasn’t the same and may never be. Now Natasha was telling him that he had hinted at being himself to her? Steve couldn’t believe it; it was relieving to know Bucky was always there. But it was like being stabbed in the back over and over.

“I could hear him. The way they dragged him toward the machine to wipe his memory. Sometimes he went willingly, other times he fought it. He would scream and be threatened by the guards, but he never cared. But this one time was different, he just kept repeating these numbers and slipped in the name ‘Steve’.” Natasha turned to Steve as tears welled her eyes. “And I didn’t know it was you until we went to the museum. I’m sorry.” She grabbed Steve’s hands. “I never thought you’d see him again. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Steve let a tear roll down his cheek as he nodded. The image of Bucky laying on a table repeating his war numbers came to the forefront of his mind. The first image of the pain that Hydra had put into Bucky. He grabbed Natasha and hugged her. As hurt as he was, he understood her reasoning. She was the only person to care about his wellbeing when he got to the compound in the beginning. If she kept anything from him it was always for the greater good.

Footsteps came down the hall and all three of them turned their heads to see Bucky standing in the hallway entryway. He was still in Steve’s dark green sweatpants and gray t-shirt that was just slightly too big. “Natalia.” Bucky said softly, his eyes weary.

Natasha pulled away from Steve and faced Bucky straight on. “You remember me?”

Bucky nodded and hesitantly walked over. “Didn’t need you telling Steve any more than you did.” His voice was low, quiet.

She nodded. Her eyes scanned Bucky’s appearance. "So, you've been in hiding with Steve's help?"

Bucky nodded. "And Sam's." He stood by Steve, grabbing his hand as if it were an anchor. "It was nice until Hydra came back. Heard you escaped it all." 

“It lingers in my mind, but I try to push forward every day.” She gave Bucky a smile.

Bucky gave her a small smile back. “All we can do.” He reached out to grab Natasha’s hand, but both of them ended up pulling each other into a hug.

Steve felt his heart constrict in his chest. He watched their reunion, the raw emotion that dripped from their voices and actions as they held one another. They were silent, but a small whimper escaped Natasha's lips. It was as if the two of them could just hold each other in silence, an unspoken language being shared between them. It was one of the most powerful scenes that Steve had ever been witness to.

“I’ll help you.” She whispered against Bucky’s shoulder. “I’ll help you because you’re a victim. We both were.”

“Thank you.” Bucky replied, voice thick with sadness.

She pulled back and put a hand on his cheek. “And because I didn’t realize just how much you meant to Steve.” She teased softly.

“Yeah, he talk about me?” He gave her a playful smirk, but there was some sadness behind it. Steve could only imagine the memories that those two shared, both dark and romantic.

She laughed and rolled her eyes playfully. "Of course. He's got a bit of a crush. And from what I heard last night,"

"So anyway," Steve cut in quickly.

Bucky laughed quietly as he pulled away from Natasha. "I encouraged the noise thinking nobody would hear."

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully. "At least it was only me."

Bucky nodded and winked at her. He moved over to be back by Steve, his arm wrapping around his waist.

Steve leaned into Bucky's touch. "You promise you won't say anything?" He asked Natasha.

"I promise." She vowed and sat back down. "Steve told me you knew Zemo?"

Bucky nodded and sat in the chair that was empty besides Steve's seat. "Met him after I left."

She pursed her lips and nodded. "Where'd they take you anyway? We all went into training one day and they told us the Winter Soldier was being stationed somewhere else."

Bucky shrugged. Steve could see how easy the painful conversation flowed between them. Two hurt people with life experiences painfully similar. "They wanted to follow through with my bone replacement. It would have been too hard to experiment and use my body at the same time."

"Sick." Natasha muttered and rubbed her face.

Bucky nodded his agreement. "But they needed me too much that they never actually got to it."

"But they tried?"

Bucky bit his lip. "They wanted me strong."

"You were already strong." Natasha retorted.

"Yeah but they wanted me the _strongest_."

Steve could feel his eyes welling with tears. He hated to think of Bucky laying on an experiment table, knives slicing into his side to access his ribcage. Bucky must have sensed Steve's worry. His hand enveloped Steve's, squeezing lightly. "But I'm okay now." He tried to give Steve a reassuring smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Natasha watched them. "I won't let Zemo take you back to them, James. I promise." She looked at Steve. "What do you say? You three join me to bring Zemo down."

"And Rumlow." Sam added.

Natasha reached out and squeezed Bucky's hand. "Time to find who's framing you."


	10. Chapter 9

Steve would never, never in a million years, tell Bucky no. Not to anything. He loved Bucky too much and truth be told, he wanted whatever Bucky wanted too. Even before the serum. That doesn’t mean Steve would do something when he truly didn’t want to, it was just that Bucky and Steve lived on the same wavelength. Call him crazy, but he believed they did because they were soulmates.

But that was before, and this is now. Now Steve had to be more careful. Bucky was still hidden away on his floor. He didn’t leave, which made Steve feel he was keeping Bucky prisoner no matter how much Bucky told him he wasn’t. He feared that something would happen and suddenly, Steve would be seen as a captor in Bucky’s eyes. That he would be the same level of horrid as Hydra. Bucky shot that idea down, telling Steve he was getting better, but there was still too much uncertainty in their situation.

So, when Steve had to go down for a big “Avengers Get Together!” courtesy of Tony missing them all together, he would have to tell Bucky no that he couldn’t come, and that no he couldn’t get out of it. He would have to leave Bucky alone.

Bucky laid on the couch, a science fiction novel in hand. Steve had collected them when he got the floor and saw all the empty bookshelves preinstalled. He didn’t read nearly as much as Bucky. He enjoyed drawing the reader rather than being the reader. So, when he had to fill the shelves, he filled them with books Bucky would have liked. He hadn’t known Bucky was alive then, but it was a tribute. Now he was grateful to have created that tribute because Bucky was on his fifth novel in a single week.

"Hey.” Steve said softly, not wanting to startle Bucky from his trance of reading. He moved and sat by Bucky’s feet.

Bucky reached behind him, grabbing the Captain America bookmark that Sam bought him as a gag gift and putting it into the book. Setting the book on his chest, he stretched his feet to rest atop Steve’s thigh. Bucky sent him a dazzling smile.

Steve couldn’t get over how healthy and beautiful Bucky looked now. His built frame impossibly gentle, his long hair now soft from good product and framing his face beautifully. Steve was making sure he ate three meals a day to stay healthy and was sneaking up workout equipment so Bucky could workout on the floor. He had Natasha to thank for that. Natasha was on Bucky monitor watch meaning she made sure any footage of herself, Sam, or Steve that may look suspicious wasn’t being recorded. She also made sure that his floor security was locked further making it even more difficult for somebody to switch it back on.

Steve smiled and dropped a hand to rest over Bucky’s ankle.

“What?” Bucky asked, propping himself up better on the pillow underneath him. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Steve looked over at him.

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You’re definitely worried about something.”

Steve laughed. How could he not be worried when anytime he had to leave the floor and leave Bucky alone, Bucky was left even more vulnerable?

Bucky sat up fully, resting his hands on his legs. “Is it me?” His tone was gentle, light as a feather as it brushed past his lips.

“It’s never you.” Steve said quickly, looking down at his thumb that was now stroking Bucky’s ankle. “It’s just… I can’t have dinner with you tonight.” Steve said sheepishly, feeling sadness grip at his throat. 

Since they decided to have Bucky stay with him, they had been eating every meal together. If Sam or Natasha asked him to dinner, or if he wanted to join them for takeout, it always ended up being on Steve’s floor so Bucky could be included. Sam and Natasha never minded, they understood. He never wanted Bucky to eat alone, not ever again. It always hurt him to know he was alone at the safe house, eating alone, sleeping alone, bathing alone. Steve only did it because it was for the best. But now, being together was for the best.

_Bucky walked through the door with two bowls of Sarah’s beef stew. Steve sat up carefully, surprised to see Bucky._

_Steve was sick, a slight fever and chills. Sarah was off work from the hospital tonight, so there was no reason for Bucky to come over and help Steve._

_“Hi!” Bucky beamed, holding the tray before Steve._

_“Hi, Buck.” Steve watched as Bucky sat down across from him on the bed, carefully placing the tray between them._

_“Hope you don’t mind.” Bucky’s cheeks dusted pink. He crushed a saltine cracker into his soup. “My parents were at something with Becca tonight and I,” Bucky shrugged, reaching behind Steve to prop his pillow behind Steve’s back for support. “You know, you’re sick which always worries me.”_

_Steve nodded, dipping his spoon into the soup. “Did my ma invite you here?” Steve teased._

_Bucky laughed, shoving a carrot into his mouth before instantly dropping it open. “Hot!” Steve laughed, the gurgle of phlegm in his throat cracked around. Bucky fanned his mouth before continuing to munch on his carrot. “No, she didn’t.” He said after he swallowed. “I was alone with nothing to do. I actually finished all my chores. And ‘sides, it was dinner time and I hate eatin’ alone.” Bucky admitted. “I brought my dinner down here, but Sarah told me to eat the stew and take my food back home.”_

_Steve watched Bucky spoon through the soup. He didn’t know Bucky didn’t like to eat alone, but it made so much sense. Steve constantly had dinner with Bucky. On nights that his family was out, Bucky would always invite Steve to stay for dinner in a voice that was almost pleading. Not that Bucky ever needed to convince Steve- Steve wanted to be around Bucky all the time._

_“Eat your soup.” Bucky poked Steve’s bowl with the tip of his spoon. “It’ll help you.”_

_Steve smiled, taking a bite of the warm soup. “You know, I don’t want you to get sick.”_

_“I never do.” Bucky shrugged. “And ‘sides, if I do, it’s worth it.”_

Bucky nodded once. “That’s fine.”

Steve blinked, looking over at Bucky. “Are you sure? I know you hate eating alone but I just can’t get out of this and-”

Bucky chuckled, his hand coming up to cup the side of Steve’s face. “Steve.” His eyes bored into Steve’s soul. “I promise you; I don’t mind. I know you gotta hang out with them too, and I don’t want you to feel _I’m_ trapping _you_ here.”

Steve nodded, leaning into Bucky’s touch. “I can make you something before I go.”

“Worried I’ll burn the tower down?” Bucky joked. “I can cook, Stevie. Don’t worry about me.” Steve didn’t respond so Bucky added, “And now you’re worrying. I will call Sam to drag your ass out of here.”

“I am not!” Steve countered. “I just feel bad for leaving you alone.”

Bucky sighed, leaning back against the side of the couch. “I don’t mind bein’ alone anymore.” Bucky admitted. “I spent a lot of time alone and being alone with myself when I’m kind of two people is… hard.” Bucky looked down at his hands. “But I’ve learned ways to cope, to make the best of being alone.” He looked up and sent Steve a smile. “So, when you leave, don’t be thinking about me the whole time.”

Steve moved to be over Bucky’s body and Bucky eagerly spread his legs to make room for Steve. He reached down, softly connecting his lips to Bucky’s. Bucky kissed back, his flesh hand coming to cup Steve’s neck to bring him closer.

Steve leaned back and smiled. “I have to leave. We can’t start anything we can’t finish.” He nipped at Bucky’s bottom lip.

Bucky groaned, wrapping one leg around Steve’s waist. “I change my mind; I want you to stay.” He jutted out his bottom lip.

Steve kissed his pouty lip and rolled off of him, landing on the floor.

"You are reckless in every sense of the word.” Bucky looked down at Steve. “Seriously.”

“I needed up!” Steve got up and started walking to their bedroom.

He smiled at the thought of it being _their_ bedroom. Bucky had been sleeping in there, only once did he move to sleep on the couch. Steve didn’t think he would ever be able to forget that morning no matter how hard he tried.

_Steve woke up in a cold bed, his arms wrapped around air. He rubbed at his eyes, willing them to adjust in the dark. He didn't see an outline of Bucky, nor was the bathroom light on. Frowning, he kicked the blankets off and got up._

_“Buck?” Steve asked, walking out into the living room._

_He walked around the couch to find Bucky curled on it. He was wrapped in a thin throw blanket, curled into a ball. When Steve knelt down to be more level with him, he noticed that Bucky was clutching one of Steve’s t-shirts. Except, it had a small amount of blood on it. Steve knew it wasn’t his own._

_Steve slowly started to stroke Bucky’s arm, trying to coax him awake gently to avoid an outburst._

_Bucky stirred, a small “No please don’t” escaping his lips. Steve felt his heart crack as he tried to wake Bucky up both carefully and quickly. Whatever he was dreaming, it was hurting him. He wanted to bring Bucky back to the here and now, back to peace._

_Bucky’s eyes sprung open; the blues lit with lightning of worry before calming at the sight of Steve. “Steve?” His voice was rumbly._

_“Hi baby.” Steve said softly, watching as the tears started to fall from Bucky’s now open eyes. Reaching out slowly, he brushed the hair from Bucky’s face, tucking it behind his ear. “Woke up to a cold bed.”_

_“Didn’t want to wake you.” Bucky said quietly, pulling the blanket to cover his hands that gripped Steve’s shirt._

_“What happened?” Steve rubbed Bucky’s side over the blanket._

_"Had a nightmare.”_

_Steve nodded and got up. “Want me to carry you back to bed?”_

_Bucky looked up at Steve, his eyes glossed over with more tears. He nodded._

_Steve reached under Bucky and picked him up, cradling him to his chest. He carefully walked Bucky back but instead of laying him in their bed, he took him into the bathroom. Using his foot to push the lid of the toilet down, he set Bucky down on it._

_“Let me see your hand.” Steve said gently, kneeling before Bucky and holding his hands open for Bucky’s._

_Bucky shook his head once, looking so much like a hurt and scared child._

_“It was bleeding, Buck. The bloods on the shirt.” Steve tried to reason._

_“It’s fine.”_

_"Bucky,”_

_“Steve.” Bucky said quickly, a flash of anger before sadness rested onto his face. He hastily unwrapped the shirt to show his hand, blood now drying underneath his fingernails and on the tips of his fingers. “Wasn’t my hand. I just used the shirt to wipe it.”_

_“Where then?” Steve was gentle, his heart beating sadly within his chest._

_Bucky, with one shaky and one steady hand, pulled his shirt off._

_Steve frowned as he got the glimpse of Bucky’s raw left shoulder, the scars scratched open. Blood was drying and still spilling from the self-inflicted wounds. The usually puffy skin was even more inflamed, and Steve wondered how he didn’t see it underneath Bucky’s t-shirt. Bucky stared at his left shoulder, not saying anything, and not moving._

_Steve got up, grabbing a washcloth, and dampening it. Then he grabbed his first aid kit and knelt down on Bucky’s left side. Steve dabbed at the skin, staining the pale blue washcloth with blood._

_“You don’t have to do this.” Bucky said through gritted teeth, Steve’s t-shirt gripped in Bucky’s hands once more._

_“I don’t mind.” Steve replied as he put some anti-biotic cream on the marks. “I know you’ll heal soon, but I don’t want you to be in pain.”_

_Bucky laughed, a laugh all too hard and all too sad. “I’m usually always in pain.” Bucky said after he stopped laughing. “The arm is heavy. It pulls me apart.” Bucky took the abandoned cloth and wiped the blood from his nails and fingers._

_Steve put a large band-aid over a portion of the open scars. “What happened?” He asked._

_"I was dreaming. They were installing my arm; I didn’t want them to.” Bucky began. “So, I asked them not to, they didn’t listen. I was trying to pry it out, but it’s impossible.” He looked at his shoulder, watching the way Steve was gently taking care of it. “I hope I didn’t get blood on your sheets.”_

_"If you did, I’ll wash them.” Steve finished his shoulder and when Bucky went to stand, Steve put his hand on his arm. “Hold on.” Steve got up, putting everything away before stepping out of the bathroom._

_Steve went and checked the sheets. There were some lines of blood, so Steve made quick work of changing the sheets._

_“Sorry.” Bucky said sullenly from the doorway._

_Steve walked over and picked Bucky up, carrying him back to the bed. He laid Bucky down, tucked him in, then got into his own spot._

_“Bucky.” Steve cuddled up to Bucky, resting against his chest. “I love you.”_

_“I love you too.” Bucky said, his fingers brushing the top of Steve’s back._

_“You can wake me up if you wake up scared.”_

_Bucky shook his head. “It was stupid.”_

_"No, it wasn’t.” Steve faced Bucky, resting his chin on Bucky’s firm chest. “You were hurt, and you were scared. I can help you, Buck. Let me help you, let me in.” Steve’s voice cracked slightly. “You aren’t alone. I want to help you, care for you. I want to worship your scars, so you see their beauty, not their pain.”_

_Bucky’s thumb brushed the tear from under Steve’s eye. “You do.” He replied earnestly._

_"Not enough.”_

_"You do so much, Steve. I can’t control my dreams.”_

_"No, you can’t. But you can control your reality. This is your life again, Bucky. Not theirs. Not ever again. If you wake up, you don’t need to hurt alone.”_

Steve pulled on a dark green hoodie and walked back out to Bucky. His memory of Bucky hurt making him want to show Bucky how loved he was. Reaching his stunning love, he noticed Bucky had already begun reading his book again. Steve reached down, wrapping his arms around him.

Bucky laughed, quickly shoving his thumb in the book not to lose his place. “Woah there, big guy.” Bucky smiled. “You pickin’ me up?”

Steve scooped Bucky up, holding him close to his chest. “I love you.” He breathed out.

“I love you too.” Bucky replied, reaching up to kiss Steve’s chin.

Steve set Bucky back down carefully. “I’ll miss you.”

Bucky closed his now bookmarked book and smiled. “I’ll miss you too, but you’ll be right downstairs. If I need you, or you need me, we can text each other.” Bucky must have noticed the crinkle of worry between Steve’s brows. “I promise.” He said softer.

“Deal.” Steve put his feet into his slippers. “No compromising photos.”

Bucky pursed his lips. “We’ll see.” He sent him a final wink.

-

Steve made his way down to the lobby with his hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets. He did his best to prepare himself to be Cap. He hated the mask. He wanted to be himself around the people who were pretty much his family, but it was impossible. Between everyone thinking he’s the golden boy and everyone thinking that he’s nothing but a prop, pulling out Steve Rogers seems hard. He tried not to dwell too much on it, but it was hard not to before a group gathering like this. He just wanted to be Steve, but they wouldn’t see it that way. Besides, if they cared about Steve more than the Captain, they would care more about finding Bucky and helping him then hunting Bucky and wanting to incarcerate him.

Stepping out of the elevator, he did his best to look like there was nowhere else he would rather be. He noticed the long dining table was laid out with enough chairs for them all to sit at. Steve sighed, realizing that this was going to be a literal family dinner and not just sitting around and eating dinner together, some on the floor and some on the couch.

He liked the more laid-back nights. The drinking and laughter and no pressure on having to talk. But when everybody was at a table, if there was a lull in the conversation, the silence was always overwhelming.

“Captain!” Thor beamed, walking over, handing Steve a tall glass. “The man I wanted to see. I bring some Asgardian drink for you.”

“Thank you, Thor.” Steve sniffed the dark liquid, the strong smell of alcohol tingling his nose. He took a small sip, the taste exploding on his tongue. He smiled. “Tastes better than I thought it would.” He admitted.

Thor grinned, patting Steve on the back a little too hard. “Many people say that.”

“How you been?” Steve asked as they walked over to be with the rest of the group in the living room space.

“Not bad. Asgard has been well lately. How have you been?”

Steve sat next to Sam. “Better.” He admitted.

Steve had always been fond of Thor. Thor was an outsider much like Steve. Thor may be a God, but Steve was a man out of time. Both of them had to adjust and catch up to the way Earth did things. He wouldn’t tell Thor that he knew of Bucky for fear it would spread, but he felt like if he wanted to, he could. Thor was understanding. Thor was a man who would do anything for Loki who did his fair share of bad things too. 

Sam tipped his beer bottle toward Steve’s cup. “I kind of want to see you drunk. Thor said this could do it.”

Looking down at the drink from Thor, Steve chuckled. “I think it’ll put hair back onto my chest.”

Sam stuck his finger near his mouth in a gagging notion. “Don’t need the kinky details.”

“Oh please!” Steve laughed, taking another sip. 

Peter set a bowl of dinner rolls on the table rather loudly. “Oops, my bad. Dinner is almost ready! Hi Captain Rogers!” He waved at Steve from across the room. “How are you?”

Steve gave a slight wave back. He remembered the words from Peter about Bucky, _I hope they never find him._ “I’m good kid. How are you?”

“Hungry.” Peter sent him a salute as he made his way back into the kitchen.

“You that kids grandpa now?” Natasha teased from her spot next to Bruce on the other side of the couch.

Before Steve could respond, Tony emerged from the kitchen, a “KISS THE COOK” apron with kissy lip details proudly wrapped around his body. “Dinner is served, my children. Come all find your seat.”

Steve sat at one head of the table with Tony at the other. Sam sat to Steve’s left with Natasha on his right. Everybody else filled into the gaps.

They ate with small talk that was not work related. Peter talked about school and an old gaming system he found to put together, Clint talked about how he was teaching his children how to shoot an arrow, and Thor talked about yet another trick that Loki pulled on him.

Steve ate, not saying much and only responding when he felt he needed to. His mind was on Bucky. He couldn’t help it. Everybody at the table was allowed to talk about what they were doing in their spare time. Steve couldn’t. Steve couldn’t tell them about how Bucky’s face lit up when telling Steve about a chapter or line he read. He couldn’t tell them about how Bucky teared up at the smell of pomegranate soap because he “never thought he would smell pretty again” when he was in Hydra’s hold. He couldn’t tell them how strong and how hard Bucky was working to be himself again, how badly Bucky wanted to be _free_.

He wondered if Bucky was still on the couch reading, if he decided to take a bath with his fancy soup, if he even ate dinner, and if he did- what did he have? Steve hated that he was alone up there. He mentally noted that maybe getting a pet for Bucky wouldn’t be a bad idea. A cat. A cat would definitely be Bucky’s speed. Bucky would probably reject the idea at first, but Steve knew him well enough to know he would adore it. Bucky had always been so gentle that not even Hydra could wither that part of him away.

“Cap?” Sam nudged Steve’s arm.

Steve sat up straighter, looking up confused. He blinked the glossed over look from his eyes. “What?”

Tony laughed, pointing his fork across the table toward Steve. “T’Challa mentioned Barnes and we asked if you had any headway. Seemed you were in space, another planet perhaps.”

Steve shook his head, swallowing thickly. “N-No.” He reached for his drink, taking a long sip, feeling the alcohol bubble inside his chest, spreading warmth. “To either.” He added as an afterthought.

Tony shrugged once, taking Steve’s answer in stride as he popped another piece of dinner roll into his mouth. T’Challa gave him a sideways look but didn’t push the issue.

Steve liked T’Challa, the man was a good man with a big heart. He wasn’t taking it personally that T’Challa wanted to find Bucky for revenge, Steve would do the same thing. Hell, he is. He wants to find Hydra and destroy them all because of how they hurt Bucky. T’Challa and Steve are both driven by their hearts and courage.

Peter looked down the table at Steve, sending him a sympathetic look. Steve sent him a wink, causing Peter to smile.

Thor cleared his throat loudly, even though the table had fallen silent. “What exactly is the plan with Captain Steve’s friend?”

“Well,” Tony set his fork down. “T’Challa would like to take him to a Wakandan prison after we question him.”

Steve bit his tongue.

Thor turned to Steve. “But he is your friend?”

“The man has been tortured and brainwashed for over fifty years. If he remembered Steve, wouldn’t he have come back?” Rhodey asked.

Steve didn’t say anything his mind racing with the answers. All revolving around _yes, he did come back_ and _yes, he is my friend, love of my life actually._

“Well if we are scaring him away, why would he come back to somebody who knew people who would hurt him?” Sam retorted to Rhodey.

Thor pointed at Sam. “Exactly! If he was tortured, he needs help.”

“Not prison.” Steve added under his breath.

“What?” Clint looked up at Steve.

“Nothing.” Steve took a sip of his drink quickly.

Natasha refilled her wine glass, swirling the blood red liquid before raising it to her lips. “Are we doing anything together after dinner?” She tried to change the topic, the eagerness to laced within her sweet tone.

Tony nodded. “Yep. It’s a little thing called bonding, something none of you people like to do with me anymore.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “You take us being busy and having lives so personal.”

“Because it is!” Tony shook his head in disbelief that he even had to explain himself. “I say, we watch a movie. Who picked last time? Oh wait, it’s been too long you probably all forgot!” 

“I did!” Clint interjected.

"Anyway, I’ll let the kid pick.” He put a hand on Peter’s shoulder.

“Oh, Mr. Stark thank you!” He set his glass of water back down on the table. “Has anyone ever seen that really old science movie…”

And Steve’s mind drifted to young Bucky, in love with science. Steve always admired the way Bucky didn’t care about school, or reading, not like he should have, but when science was involved, he was all over it. Bucky couldn’t get enough, and it didn’t really matter what kind of science, he was immediately drawn to it all. 

Now, Bucky was the science experiment.

Steve supposed he was one too.

Steve saw a lot of Bucky in Peter. The way Peter lit up when he named off an old science film that he wanted to make sure none of them had seen. It was so much like Bucky when he told Steve about a book he read, or a title he saw. Even now, Bucky still was reading the science fiction novels and getting giddy when he told Steve about them. He hoped that maybe one day Bucky and Peter could be friends. Peter may annoy Bucky with his very bubbly personality compared to Bucky’s cool demeanor, but Bucky would get used to it.

“Bring out the cupcakes and let’s watch this movie!” Tony clapped, loud enough to pull Steve from his what could be thoughts.

-

The long, old science film that Peter chose ended and Steve was wound up and ready to go back to his floor. The living room had been so dark throughout the whole movie that there was no way Steve could have snuck his phone out to text Bucky. He was just eager now to get back. When he looked at the clock, he was shocked to see the movie had only been an hour and forty-five minutes. It had felt like an eternity.

Tony stretched, setting his empty popcorn bowl down on the table. “This was fun! FRIDAY turn on the lights, dear.”

“It was! Thank you for watching my movie!” Peter smiled at them all.

Sam got up, setting his empty cup in the dishwater, and eyed up the cupcake tray.

Natasha nudged Steve from her spot next to him. “You off to your floor now?” She whispered.

Steve nodded. He didn’t want to be the first to leave though. He was grateful when Wanda and Vision got up, hand in hand. “We’ll see you all later!” Wanda sent a small wave at everyone.

“Be safe you young ones! Don’t be strangers.” Tony waved to them as they went to the elevators and left quickly.

Steve got up after a few more people left. Tony frowned. “Leaving already?”

Steve looked at the clock and then at Tony. “It’s getting late, Tony. Besides, I’m pretty sure Pepper would appreciate if you went to bed.” 

Tony shrugged a shoulder. “She might.” He got up and slapped Steve on the shoulder. “Don’t be a stranger. Keep me in your little loopily loop here you got lookin’ for Barnes.” 

Steve swallowed thickly. “Of course, Tony.”

As Steve got into the elevator to leave, Sam joined Steve on his ride. Steve clicked the button to his floor and Sam stood there, hands carefully in his pocket.

“You going to your floor?” Steve looked down at Sam’s hands confused. He looked back up to see Sam looking at the closing elevator door.

Sam waited until the elevator started to move up before he pulled out a chocolate covered strawberry cupcake from their dinner. The frosting was only slightly smudged, but it still looked as pretty as it did on the tray. “Nope. I’m bringing our friend a gift. Besides, haven’t seen him since I gave him that bookmark.”

Steve wanted nothing more than to scoop Sam into a hug, thanking him for being so kind to the love of his life. Sam didn’t need to bring Bucky gifts, or include Bucky, or welcome him with open arms. But he did and he did it because he wanted to. He went beyond what Steve asked for his help with. The only thing stopping him from the hug was the potential crushing of the beautiful cupcake that he knew Bucky would devour.

“Which he uses.” Steve added as the doors chimed open to his floor.

“Good.” Sam laughed. “After all, he is your biggest fan.”

\--

After Steve left, it took all of thirty minutes before Bucky felt bored. He had finished his book in those thirty minutes and now was left with nothing to do. Usually, he would hug Steve, wrap around him like a koala bear for attention. Or he would use the weights Steve would have Natasha sneak up for him. But all he wanted to do was wrap around Steve- the one thing he couldn't have right now. Which was fine, he was glad Steve was with his friends. He tried not to think about it a lot, but it was hard not to think about how he may be holding Steve back. Steve had to be even more careful with Bucky there, meaning he spent less time off the floor. No matter how many times Steve told him there was no place he'd rather be than with Bucky, it still didn't ease Bucky's conscience.

But Steve told him, home isn't a place. It's a people, and Bucky is his home. 

Bucky got up, stretching like a cat as he felt his remaining bones crack. He walked into the kitchen, unsure what to eat but knowing he probably should. He knew Steve told him to make this place his home too, but Bucky couldn’t help feeling like a temporary guest. As he opened the fridge, he grabbed the leftover container of spaghetti and sat down at the table. He ate slowly, enjoying the taste of cold spaghetti. He knew he liked cold pizza, so now he was trying all meals cold to see how they were. Not all were good, he hated the leftover homemade chicken noodle soup they made when it was cold. Steve had laughed at Bucky as he hastily microwaved it, grumbling about cold broth.

Bucky watched the fork twirl the red sauced noodles, making a large nest of them and shoving them in his mouth. He chewed the heavy amount of food.

_Steve and Bucky ordered pizza from a local pizzeria Steve loved in the city. It was Bucky’s first night getting to stay with Steve and he couldn’t care less about what he ate, just that he was with Steve was enough._

_Steve would always be more than enough._

_As they ate, Bucky took huge bites. He never thought anything of it. Sometimes, he wondered if he had always eaten too large of bites and ate too fast. It wasn’t like he remembered the speed he ate when he was a sixteen-year-old teen in Brooklyn._

_Steve frowned, wiping his mouth with his napkin. He was on his third slice of pizza while Bucky was on his sixth. He blamed his super soldier appetite._

_“Hey, Buck?”_

_Bucky looked up, swallowing a large bite of pizza too early and feeling it force its way down his throat._

_“You don’t have to eat so fast.” Steve said softly. “I, you’re always going to have food now. I’ll make sure of it.”_

_Bucky looked down at the pizza. He didn’t remember the days of full bellies and warm homecooked meals. Not like he should have. What he did remember were too many sleepless nights and hungry days when he was in the hands of Hydra. He had a serum; he knew he wouldn’t die of starvation or sleep deprivation. Hydra knew too and they took advantage of it, of his body._

_Bucky now realized that his eating habits, even when he started getting his appetite back at the safe house, was like this. Too big and too fast. He was suffering the aftereffects of what they did to him. He felt stupid, angry for letting them get under his skin. Angry that in his healing, they lurked._

_Bucky set his half-eaten slice of pizza down. “They ruined me.”_

_“I didn’t mean it like that,” Steve started._

_"No. I know what_ you _meant. It’s what_ they _did.” Bucky growled. “They ruined every aspect of me. My body, my mind, my fucking habits!” He balled his fists against his thighs. “I can’t even eat like myself because of them!”_

_“Buck,” Steve started again. “You’re still in the process of healing.”_

_“It isn’t going fast enough.” He grumbled, picking up the pizza and taking a smaller bite._

_“They tortured you, Bucky. And I wish everyday they didn’t but,” Steve looked Bucky in the eyes. His blue eyes cooling something within Bucky’s aching soul. “Don’t torture yourself too.”_

Bucky looked down at the almost empty container of pasta. His head throbbed, but the pain wasn’t as blinding. He had been getting better at managing it, trying to control the way the thoughts came and how he tried to remain in the moment while they did.

He tried to remind himself of Steve’s words- _“Don’t torture yourself too”_. He didn’t realize he was. But when he thought about it, he sent himself into a whirlwind of emotion. Sometimes, he would look in the mirror and want to rip the length off his hair so he could look like the Bucky in Steve’s art. Sometimes, Bucky would think back on a day out with his mom and then get angry that Winifred was dead and blame himself for being drafted. The look on Becca’s face when he said he had to go to war like he even had the choice.

The look on Steve’s face when he told him he would go to war, the war Steve so badly wanted to be a part of. To protect, to serve.

Bucky blamed himself, torturing his own mind with the reminders of his ruined life and a life he tried so hard to cling to.

Getting up, Bucky rinsed his now empty container and set it in the left side of the sink before sighing. He didn’t know what to do now. He missed Steve. He was bored without Steve. He just needed to pass the time and passing them with negative thoughts wasn’t what he wanted to keep doing.

He padded across the spacious floor layout and into the bathroom. Steve had gifted Bucky with new pomegranate scented bath bombs and matching scented bubble bath. Bucky was excited when Steve gave it to him, laughing because he had only told Steve one time that he enjoyed taking baths.

As he started the warm water, he stripped down, bypassing a look in the mirror at his body. He wanted to relax in the bath, not feel like a monster.

Dropping the bath bomb in, he smiled at the way it exploded out, a supernova within the white porcelain. It was beautiful and he found himself watching until the water was a deep pink and the bomb was nothing but minute dust littering the bottom of the tub. Then he poured some bubbles in, the fragrance of sweet pomegranate only getting stronger in the bathroom.

Sinking in, he felt all of his bones ease. Bucky allowed himself to relax, his arms resting on the edge of each side of the tub. He dipped his head back, the ends of his hair floating in the water around his neck. It felt perfect and smelled even better.

Bucky closed his eyes, his mind wandering to what a life of freedom would look like. What it would be like if he could go to dinner with Steve and the Avengers, if he could go get coffee and bagels with Sam instead of him always bringing them to the floor. He wanted to show Steve off to the world. Growing up, he never got to. The world was cruel then. It was cruel now too. Bucky just wanted a break, to love freely and openly.

Yet, something always stood in the way.

Bucky tried to push the thought out. His bath was supposed to be relaxing. “Damn.” Bucky said aloud when he thought of how he should have brought a book with him. He looked down to his feet below the water, the bubbles obscuring his view of his body. He looked at the closed bathroom door and bit his lip. He was alone, he could relax in a way he remembered doing when he was a sixteen-year-old boy. He dipped his flesh hand into the warm water.

He first ran his hands over his chest, pinching slightly at his right nipple. It didn’t feel as good as it did when Steve did it, but it didn’t feel bad either. He bit his lip, pulling at the nub. He scaled his hand down more, trying not to get caught up on the way his fingers grazed over raised scars.

He let his hand grip around his growing erection. He worked himself to hardness, watching the way the head peaked out from the cloud of bubbles around it. Bucky laughed at how funny it looked.

Gripping his dick, he pumped his hand up and down, twisting his wrist on the upstroke. “Mmm…” He moaned softly.

Grazing his thumb over the tip, catching the precome, he leaned his head back. It felt good, the warmth of the water making his skin get a layer of sweat quicker.

He groaned, thrusting up into his fist once before pausing to make sure water wouldn’t bounce out of the tub. Luckily it didn’t, so Bucky thrusted up again. He tightened his grip, flicking his wrist as he pulled and jerked at himself.

He didn’t hear when the elevator announced an arrival, he didn’t hear the voices, he didn’t hear Steve’s feet making their way to find Bucky. All he could hear was his small moans and groans, the splash of the water as he fucked his fist over himself faster.

Bucky didn’t hear the door open. But he did feel the eyes suddenly plastered to his skin.

Bucky dropped his dick, it bounced slightly in the water, but still peeked out from the bubbles, hard and throbbing as it begged Bucky to finish.

“Hi.” Bucky said breathily when he looked up to see Steve.

Steve’s pupils were blown wide as he looked down at Bucky’s dick. He stood stock still in the doorway, hand gripping the door handle tightly.

Bucky smirked, sitting up slightly in the bath to create room on the other side of the oddly large tub. Bucky would need to ask if Tony specially ordered this tub to accommodate Steve. Maybe one day he could thank Tony for that. “You want to join me?”

Steve nodded, biting his bottom lip. “So bad.” He breathed out. Shaking his head, he tore his eyes from Bucky’s lower half to his face. “But Sam is here.”

Bucky jutted out his bottom lip. “Can he leave and come back?”

Steve laughed breathily and shook his head. “He brought you something.”

“Can we be quick then?”

Steve shook his head once more. Bucky looked down at the tent forming in Steve’s pants. “You sure?” Bucky teased.

Steve nodded, adjusting himself. “I don’t want to be quick with you.” He stepped in and over to Bucky, placing a kiss on his damp forehead. “I always want to take my time with you.” He whispered in Bucky’s ear, his breath hot.

Bucky shuddered. “Please, Stevie.” He whined, palming at his cock below the water. Steve smirked. “Tonight, baby.” He placed one more kiss to Bucky’s temple. “I’ll be with Sam in the living room.” He went to walk out and paused, his hand on the door handle. “Smells really good in here.”

Bucky nodded, blushing. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Steve walked out, shutting the door behind him.

Bucky quickly reached back down, pumping his still hard and throbbing erection fast. He thought of Steve if it were his hands on him instead of his own. The way Steve’s eyes blew wide with want as he saw Bucky in the tub and made promises of tonight. It was enough to send Bucky spilling over his fist.

Bucky sighed in contentment. He made quick work of the rest of his bath so he could go see what Sam got him.

-

Bucky walked out to the living room to find Steve on the couch and Sam in the recliner, his feet propped up. Bucky had thrown on a pair of Steve’s plaid pajama pants and a yellow t-shirt. He brushed his hair but left it down and wet. It would air dry soon enough.

“If it isn’t my favorite merman!”

Bucky laughed, sitting next to Steve. “What?” He leaned into Steve’s side. He blushed when Steve placed a kiss on top of his head.

Sam got up, walking toward the kitchen. “A merman! You take baths, something I definitely didn’t expect from a scary assassin.”

“Ah Sam. You know, you shouldn’t assume about people.”

“Yeah yeah. Makes an ass out of you and me.” Sam walked over, his hands behind his back. “Now, close your eyes and put out your hands.”

“Kinky.” Bucky deadpanned, sitting up and away from Steve.

Steve laughed.

Bucky put his hands out and closed his eyes. He could feel his flesh hand shaking, his instinct to worry kicking in. He never knew what to expect with surprises anymore.

Sam must have noticed because he quickly placed the weird item into his hand. “Open!”

Bucky opened his eyes, staring down at the cupcake. It had pink frosting with red sugar crystal sprinkles. Bucky could see it was chocolate cake for the base. On top sat a large strawberry dipped in chocolate and drizzled with white chocolate.

Bucky smiled and looked up at Sam, who was smiling proudly. “Thank you.”

Sam nodded, sitting down in the recliner once more. “Figured you could use a little extra sweetness in your life.” 

Bucky nodded, unwrapping the wrapper, and taking a bite. He moaned, sending a wink to Sam as he swallowed the bite. Sam laughed and shook his head. “This has to be the best cupcake I have ever eaten.” Bucky said, picking up the chocolate covered strawberry from the icing.

“When was the last time you had a cupcake?” Steve asked, wiping the little bit of frosting off of Bucky’s nose with his thumb.

Bucky bit into the strawberry thinking. Nothing came to mind, just an empty void. It was like doing a google search and no results appearing. Bucky shrugged, “Couldn’t tell ya.” He finished the strawberry. 

Sam looked at Steve. “Next thing I bring him is an ice cream cake.”

Bucky felt his eyes light up. “That sounds amazing.”

“Oh, it is. Vanilla ice cream on top, crumbly chocolate and fudge in the middle before some chocolate ice cream. And the frosting on an ice cream cake always taste better.” Sam rubbed his stomach to emphasize his point.

Steve nodded. “It’s true. I could just eat a cake made of the frosting and I’m not even a big frosting fan.” 

Bucky finished his cupcake and got up, throwing away the wrapper. “I want to try it.”

“Oh, you will.” Sam declared. “I’ll even get some writing on it. I’ll ask the worker, ‘Yeah can you write ‘for crazy assassin who tried to kill me’.’” He laughed.

"Funny. So funny.” Bucky rolled his eyes in jest, purposefully bumping the chair Sam sat in as he went back to the couch. He sat down next to Steve, curling into him like a cat. “How was dinner?”

Steve blew out a breath and Sam groaned. Bucky scoffed. “Oh, c’mon!” He wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist.

“No, here’s the thing.” Sam sat up. “When everyone is trying to do their job and relax in their down time, it makes having a Tony thrown get together, where he doesn’t encourage work talk, awkward.”

Steve nodded. “It’s much easier to hang out together when there isn’t something going on.”

“Exactly.” Sam stretched his legs out. “Like, I could see T’Challa getting antsy to leave because I know he’s been working hard.”

“And Bruce seems so tired. I heard him tell Tony he wanted to just check the cameras and go to bed when we paused the movie.”

Bucky frowned as he listened to them share observations from their dinner. Here he thought the night would be fun, not just for Sam and Steve, but for all of the Avengers! A night that, maybe one day, he would be invited to because they would _really_ see him for who he _really_ is. In reality, it wasn’t fun at all, for anyone. It wasn’t a lighthearted escape. And _he_ was the reason it wasn’t. He was their work. They were focused on finding him when really, he was only feet above them and harmless.

Steve laced his fingers through Bucky’s. “What?” He lifted Bucky’s chin up to face him.

Bucky shook his head, averting his eyes to look at their hands intertwined. “Your night would have been better if they knew where I was.”

“And if they knew where you were, they’d have you in prison.” 

Bucky shrugged.

Sam got up, coming to sit on the couch on the other side of Bucky. “Hey man.” Sam’s voice was gentle. “It isn’t your fault. We could have put all of this behind us if they weren’t so headstrong and would actually talk to you.”

Steve nodded in agreement. “Natasha was fantastic in handling this and she’s doing a great job hiding it. Granted you two had history, but she’s understanding. The rest of the team isn’t as understanding as she can be. Thor maybe, but he’s too talkative I’m afraid he’d slip.”

Bucky sighed, leaning up off of Steve. “They think I’m some monster when I’ve been staying in their home too and they don’t even know.” 

Sam chuckled. “It’s ironic. I think Steve should just take a drawing of you down to them and be like ‘this is him’ since you look nonthreatening in them.” Sam smiled at Steve. “If they want proof, there it is. They still want you after that, they have to come through Steve and I.”

Bucky blinked. “Wait.” He looked at Steve. “Drawings of me? Have you been drawing me again?”

Bucky remembered nights of Steve drawing him back in their small apart. He would lay out on the bed and Steve would tell him to adjust so the light, whether sunshine or moonlight, would frame his body perfectly. He remembered the way Steve would hunch over the sketchpad, his charcoal pencils rubbing and his thumbs smudging furiously over the paper. Bucky could do nothing but admire the way Steve sketched. The way his hair would fall over his forehead, sometimes long enough to make Steve swat it away from his eyes.

He hadn’t posed like that for Steve. Not since Steve found him. He saw the old sketches again, and the new sketches drawn from Steve’s memory of Bucky. The way he framed Bucky like he was still the same Bucky he had always known even when he was gone. He hadn’t seen any new sketches of himself. He hadn’t seen any sketches of _this_ Bucky.

He felt honored, feeling a warmth spread rapidly through his whole soul. He was still the subject of Steve’s art.

Steve blushed, a deep shade of red as he tried adverting his gaze to anywhere in the room but Bucky.

“You have!” Bucky smiled. “Can I see?”

“Ha, I saw them before you!” Sam teased. “Steve likes me more.”

“Uh, whose dick did he want to suck like twenty minutes ago?” Bucky raised an eyebrow.

Sam’s jaw dropped. “Steve!” He scoffed jokingly. “Unbelievable. You two are bunnies.”

Steve got up. “I’ll show you both _some_ drawings if you stop talking to one another.” He walked toward the bedroom.

Sam nudged Bucky once Steve turned into the bedroom. “Hey, don’t feel bad about the dinner. Even if you weren’t their priority, it still would’ve been a tedious night. There will always be something in this line of work.” He put his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “You’re still doing incredible.”

Bucky smiled softly. “Thanks, Sam.”

Steve came back and Sam quickly took his arm away from Bucky. He stood in front of them, the sketchbook held out before Bucky. “Here.” Steve said, a blush still creeping around his cheeks.

Bucky took it and flipped open to the first page. There was Bucky at the safe house, sitting outside by the fire he had built. His hair framing his face and his metal arm reflecting the deep orange flames. He flipped a few more pages until he got to sketches from when he arrived at the tower. Steve had sketches of Bucky laying on the couch reading, Bucky sipping water, Bucky laying on the bed. He wondered when Steve was sketching these, the detail so vivid it was clear they took time. Bucky squinted, the art lines turning into clearer lines much like a photograph.

Bucky was in awe at the art. The way Steve captured the hard edges of Bucky and made them look soft, unharming. The way he sketched Bucky’s metal limb in every work plate by plate, making it look… beautiful. Bucky never saw the arm that way, but Steve made it seem like it was something prized, something to cherish.

The art was even more skillful and well done than the previous ones he could remember and had seen. Steve’s talent had only gotten better.

As he flipped the page, his eyes widened slightly at the work before him. It was Bucky sprawled on the bed; the bedsheet tangled around him. His tangled brown hair was cascading over his face, his cherry red lips slightly parted with hair stuck to the swollen bottom lip. His body, for all the muscle and tension he felt it held, looked laxed and fragile. Even with every scar detailed, the body looked flawless. His metal palm spread out on the bed before him, next to his head. As his eyes scrolled down, he could see the muscular detailing of his chest, a hickey sucked on the left pec dangerously close to his nipple. His hips drawn with the faint smudges of finger bruised detailing. His thighs, his soft, spent cock resting against the inner, muscular thigh. His balls vulnerable, barely covered by the blanket haphazardly tangled. He trailed his eyes down all the way to his feet, the way one hung dangerously close to the edge of the bed.

It was erotic. It was stunning.

Bucky felt tears flood into his eyes.

“Wow.” Sam breathed out from beside him. “This is… wow.”

Steve quickly grabbed the sketchbook. “Shit, sorry!” He slapped the book shut. “I didn’t want you two to see that.”

When Bucky looked up, he felt the tear spill from his eye, rolling down his cheek in the motion of a river. He looked at Steve, who was blushing furiously, wide eyed and holding the sketchbook close to his chest. Bucky didn’t know what to say. “I… Thank you.” He reached his hand out, wrapping it around Steve’s tense forearm.

Sam got up. "I'm going to let you two have this tender moment." He put a hand on Bucky's shoulder and squeezed. Then he turned to look at Steve. "That was beautiful, Steve. Your talent is incredible and I'm happy for you." He patted Steve once on the shoulder before making his way to the elevator. "I'm happy for both of you." He stepped into the elevator, the doors sliding shut, swallowing his presence.

Bucky looked up at Steve who was staring at the now closed elevator doors in horror. “Steve-”

“I am so sorry.” Steve sunk down into the spot on the couch next to Bucky. “I should have asked to draw you nude after sex like that I just, I couldn’t resist how beautiful you looked when I woke up and you were so perfectly posed. I should have asked.”

Bucky frowned, placing his hand on Steve’s thigh. “Stevie, you have never had to ask to draw me. I would never want you to start now.”

Steve shook his head. "After everything that happened to you, I should have asked. You were in such a vulnerable position and now Sam saw you on display and-"

Bucky froze. “No.” He said darkly, quietly. “No, don’t even say that.” He brought both hands to cup Steve’s face gently, making him lock eyes with Bucky. “You love me. I love you. If you want to draw me, hell draw my dick at every angle, you can. You _love_ me. You don’t want to hurt me, take advantage of me, use that sketch against me. Sam seeing it, I don’t care. It was so beautiful, Steve.” Bucky rested his forehead against Steve’s. “You make me look like a wonder. I wish the whole world could see the art, the way you depict me.”

“I depict you for who you are.” Steve whispered.

Bucky bit his lip; his eyes were brimming with tears. “I love you.”

Steve pressed a soft kiss to Bucky’s lips. “I love you too.” He leaned away from Bucky, his eyes shining. “You taste like strawberry but smell like pomegranate.”

Bucky broke out into a grin, a laugh escaping his lips. “Wow, I must be delicious.”

Steve smirked. “I’d like to know how delicious some other parts are.”

Bucky jumped off the couch. “Race you to the bedroom?”

Steve laughed, and jumped over the couch, running toward the bedroom. “C’mon old man!”

Bucky gasped. “Cheater!” He ran toward the bedroom, pulling off his shirt.

Turning into the bedroom, he landed hard into Steve’s broad, bare chest with an _oof_. He scooped Bucky up. “Got you!” Steve laughed, falling back onto the bed. He adjusted Bucky to straddle him.

He looked down at Steve, his blue eyes glimmering with lust and love as they stared at Bucky like he was the most important thing in the world. It was the most beautiful shade of blue he had seen, and it was _Steve’s_. Steve’s eyes would always be more beautiful than the shades of blue the sky possessed, the shades of blue of ocean waves.

Steve and every aspect of him would forever be the most beautiful thing to Bucky. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to Steve’s soft lips.

Bucky was still trying to accept the amount of love that Steve poured over him. He wanted to feel worth all of it, worth all of what Steve had to give him. In that moment, the way Steve pulled Bucky closer, like there was no way to get enough, Bucky knew he would spend the rest of his life trying to accept that love once more.

He would spend the rest of his life trying to give that same unconditional love to Steve. It was not everyday that two soul mates crossed paths more than once. It was not everyday they were given second, third chances at love. But they were given the gift of time. It did not matter how their paths came together, fell apart, and came together again. They continued to choose each other again and again.

What was more, they could do it forever. They could wake up for a hundred more years, say they loved each other each morning, and choose each other again and again.

Bucky intended to do just that.


	11. Chapter 10

Bucky woke up, arms wrapped around a lukewarm pillow instead of the trim waist of Steve. He sighed, burying his face into the pillow, wishing it were Steve’s chest. Steve had gone out with Natasha and T’Challa to see Zemo. Bucky knew that, and he knew Steve would leave quietly to let him sleep. Waking up alone though, Bucky hated it.

He turned over, stretching on his back, and sitting up. He had the whole day to himself, what was he to do? He had ordered some new books for pick up at the bookstore after Steve promised him it was okay to. Bucky had felt bad spending Steve’s money, but Steve said it was his but also Tony’s so did it really count? Which it did, very much, to Bucky since he was still grappling with the guilt of killing Stark’s parents. Besides, Steve said he would get them on his way home so he couldn’t even start a new book while Steve was gone. He could take a bath and finish up his pomegranate soap. Bucky pursed his lips at the thought. Looking down at his flesh hand, he wondered if he could even soak his skin in another bath before permanently pruning.

He got up and put on a hoodie. The simplest thing would be to start with making breakfast. Steve had him on an eating schedule and Bucky was able to stomach pretty much any food now. He opened the bedroom door and was hit with the smell of coffee. He smiled small to himself, grateful that Steve brewed a pot before he went. It may be a little cold, but Bucky could warm it.

Except, Steve hadn’t made that coffee because there sitting on the living room couch was Sam, a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and his phone in the other.

Bucky snuck up behind him. “You know,” Sam jumped, the coffee sloshing over the rim of the cup and onto the side arm of the couch. It barely missed Sam’s pants. “You shouldn’t barge in on a sleeping assassin.” Bucky said darkly.

Sam took a few deep breaths, steadying himself. “I didn’t!” He defended, setting his coffee on the side table and getting up. “I purposely stayed out here- in the _open_ \- so that _wouldn’t_ happen.”

Bucky laughed as he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee into his ‘I love Captain America’ coffee mug. Sam grumbled next to him as he grabbed a dish towel and made his way back into the living room to clean up the coffee.

“Why aren’t you with Steve?” Bucky asked over the rim of his cup.

“Well, hi, it’s nice to see you too. Really glad you came out of your slumber.” Sam joked, tossing the towel at Bucky’s head when he was done with it. Bucky caught it instantly with his metal arm. “Steve and I thought it might be better if I stayed back.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.” Bucky slumped into the chair in the living room.

“Not because of that.” Sam sat back down and grabbed his coffee cup, shooting a faux glare at Bucky. “We know Zemo is dangerous. Odds are, if he’s onto Steve, he’s onto me. If we’re both there and something happened, nobody would know.”

“I would know.”

“Yeah, but nobody knows you would know because nobody knows where you are.”

Bucky took a sip of his coffee with a shrug. “I guess. You want breakfast?”

“You cook?”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“You got a brain you were looking for?”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. “Did you come here just to bother me.”

“Yes.” Sam beamed. “Well, actually, had an idea. Don’t tell Steve.”

“Steve is usually the one with the ideas I worry about.”

Sam nodded. “That is true.” He leaned forward. “Let’s go out.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped. His flesh hand gripped the handle of the coffee mug tighter. “I can’t.” He said quietly.

“You can.” Sam nodded as he spoke. “You’re off the news. You wear a hat, some sunglasses and normal clothes, nobody will know it’s you.”

Bucky shook his head. “It’s too risky.”

Sam sighed. “I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t think it’d be okay. But Bucky, you haven’t had any interaction besides Steve and I in a year.”

“Natasha.” Bucky weakly defended.

“Yeah but,” Sam shrugged. “We can go get coffee, bagels from that local place you like that I get. We can either bring it back here or we can go eat at the park or something. Look, I don’t want to push you. I just, I think it would be okay. And be good for you.”

Bucky leaned back into the chair and looked out the window at the moving city. The life that went on outside and below the walls he’s stared out of for weeks now. He missed it. He missed _living_. He used to run around in Brooklyn, with Steve, or finding Steve in back alleys with a bruised gut and a cut lip. Memories of Brooklyn both good and bad but still memories. Memories that were his. And he would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t miss it. And he would be denying himself if he said he didn’t badly want to go out. New York was his home.

“Okay.” Bucky croaked. The coffee in his empty stomach sloshing as he spoke.

“You sure?” Sam asked, his eyes weary at Bucky’s sudden change. “Look, I don’t want you to if you don’t. I just,”

Bucky nodded causing Sam to stop. Taking another sip of his coffee, “I miss New York.”

Sam got up. “Let’s go get some breakfast then.”

-

Bucky snuck out of the tower while Sam just took the typical path out. They met up a few blocks away. Bucky wore a deep red hoodie with black sweatpants, a space themed ballcap, and dark sunglasses that were Steve’s. He had shoved his hair into a bun, but it wouldn’t fit under the hat. He refused to wear a different hat though. The dark blue ballcap with the solar system and the word ‘GALAXY’ across the front was his favorite. Steve had bought it before he knew Bucky was even still alive because he knew it was something Bucky would have loved. He would never forget the giddiness and tears in Steve’s eyes when he gave Bucky the hat, explaining the space exhibit he went to when it reminded him of an exhibit Bucky went to growing up. He never had a place to wear the hat, but now he did, and he would wear it proudly.

Bucky couldn’t help the little rush of adrenal at being out. At the thought of this going well. At the thought that he could maybe go to a space exhibit with Steve and live a normal, happy life with Steve.

As he got up next to Sam, Sam smiled and started walking with him toward the café. Sam wore a ballcap and hat, but he wasn’t trying to hide as much as Bucky was.

Bucky glanced around, careful not to run into anybody walking around them. “You know, I used to think the city was crazy back then.”

Sam laughed. “Yeah old man, the world change for ya?”

Bucky bumped his shoulder into Sam. “Respect your elders.”

Sam stopped at the corner, waiting for the flashing hand to signal that they could walk. “You feel all right? We can always turn back around.”

Bucky shook his head, looking around at the people going about their day. Nobody was even sparing a second glance at them. “I’m good.” He was shocked to find that he meant it.

“Good.” Sam smiled and started walking.

When they got to the café, Bucky couldn’t help but beam as he walked in. The smell of fresh brewing coffee hit his nose, swirling inside of him in aromas of happiness. Bucky was in public, he felt free, yet he couldn’t fully grasp it.

“Hi!” The tall woman behind the counter smiled at him and Sam. “What can I get started for you today?”

Sam looked up at the menu before shaking his head at himself. “I don’t know why I look at the menu. I’ll get a large medium house blend with room for cream and an asiago bagel with cream cheese. Actually, I’ll get the chive cream cheese today.”

The woman smiled as she put his order into the register. “And for you?”

Bucky looked back to her from the menu. She smiled at him, not seeming to recognize him in the slightest. It made Bucky both excited and anxious. “I’ll have a large vanilla coffee, iced please with room for cream. A bagel too, the blueberry with blueberry cream cheese, please.” Bucky’s voice sounded nervous, wavering as he tried to mimic Sam’s cool demeanor and failed.

The woman smiled at him. “So polite.” She bit her bottom lip. “Your total is $11.75.”

Sam looked at Bucky with a smirk as he put his card into the machine to pay. When the woman turned around to pour Sam’s coffee, Sam winked at Bucky. “Look at you go.”

They moved to stand by the counter where they picked up Bucky’s coffee and were now just waiting on their bagels.

“Iced coffee is so much better.” Bucky muttered to Sam as he brought the cup back to his lips.

Sam shook his head. “Steve didn’t like it the first time. Said coffee wasn’t meant to be cold.” He laughed. “Don’t tell Steve or he’ll buy you an iced coffee maker all for yourself.”

Bucky smiled and accepted the bagels from another worker with a polite thank you and then he and Sam were walking out. “Where are we off to?”

“You got a park that you used to favor?”

Bucky shook his head.

“Then we’ll go to mine.”

Once they got to the park, Bucky was relieved to find it wasn’t crowded. Moving to sit on a bench that was the furthest away from anybody, Bucky set the bag of bagels down between them.

“You gotta spill.” Sam said, pulling his bagel that oozed cream cheese out of the bag. “Oh yeah.” He set it down on a napkin next to him.

“Spill what?”

“About Steve! I need an embarrassing story to hold over his head forever. I cannot believe you haven’t given me one yet.”

Bucky chuckled as he licked some blueberry cream cheese from his thumb. Pulling apart his bagel, he asked Sam, “What kind of story you want?”

“Nothing sexual. You two are basically bunny rabbits.”

Bucky laughed before taking a bite of his bagel. Chewing, he tried to think of a story. He could think of so many. Some were muddled with red and death, but some were pure and whole, some sexual. He turned some over in his head before setting his bagel down on the paper holder. “All right. I got one.”

Sam smirked, setting his bagel down and reaching for his coffee. “I’m ready.”

“When we were kids, Steve was… well he was Steve. You know,” Bucky waved his hand in explanation. “Anyway, there was this time Steve came over while I was with Becca. My sister.” Bucky bit his lip at the thought of Becca. He missed his twin so much. His best friend no matter what who he never got to say goodbye too. Even when he was drafted, he hugged her and told her he would be back.

_Becca wrapped her arms around Bucky tightly, pressing her forehead and tear stained cheeks into the front of his uniform. “You can’t go.” She whispered, her fingers clutching the back of his jacket._

_Bucky leaned his head on her head, the tears welling in his eyes. “I know.” He whispered shakily. He wanted to be strong for her._

_This goodbye was hard. His first of many. He didn’t know how he was going to face his parents. His dad, while sad, was proud to see his son do some good. His mom was devastated. No matter how many times George told Winifred, “James is a strong boy. He’ll come back”, could change their feelings. They knew war was unpredictable, anything could happen._

_Becca sniffled as she looked up at Bucky. Her blue eyes storm clouds where they once held the sun. “You have to be careful. You have to come home.”_

_“Becca.” Bucky whispered, rubbing the tears from his face. “I will come back. This isn’t forever. I’ll come back, we’ll hug and laugh about how worried we were. I promise.”_

_Bucky knew he shouldn’t have promised something when he knew that he would not be in control of his life while he was away, but he promised anyway. Somewhere deep and selfish within him didn’t want to go, he didn’t want to fight. He made a promise he knew he couldn’t keep to Becca, when really it was to himself._

Bucky blinked out of his memory, feeling the tears that had slid down his cheeks that he didn’t even know he shed stick to his skin. Bucky sniffled and looked down at his bagel. “Sorry.” He muttered, hastily wiping his cheeks with the side of his hand. He wished he could wipe away the guilt, his selfishness from a memory long past.

“Don’t ever be sorry for feeling.” Sam said both firm and gentle.

“I just,” Bucky took a shuddery breath. “I promised Becca I would come back.”

Sam frowned and nodded. “You miss her?”

“So much, Sam. I miss my whole family. My mom...” Bucky admitted, his voice falling short.

Sam looked down at his bagel. “Have you told any of this to Steve?”

Bucky shook his head.

Sam nodded. “I think you should. It isn’t healthy to keep it all inside.” Sam met Bucky’s eyes. “If you don’t want to talk to Steve, we can find you somebody safe to talk to.”

Bucky felt his chest warm at the care and gentleness that Sam was using to bring this up to Bucky. Sam was looking out for him. Sam cared about it. And, to Bucky's grumble, Sam was right. Bucky was hurting himself further by locking all of his pre-Soldier life away in the back of his mind like it never existed.

And he knew he shouldn’t. But he never had any time to mourn the loss of himself. He went straight from the train fall into the arms of the devil without a second glance at his life. He figured he had a funeral, one with an empty casket and tears for a lost soldier. He hoped Becca cried and mourned, moving on with her life just as he hoped his parents would. He hoped for the best for the people he lost long before their deaths but lost on the way down the alps.

Bucky may have lived, but it was at a cost far too high. He was here, and he was grateful to be here with Steve. A once in a lifetime opportunity, he knew that. But he suffered pain, torture, loss. He put worry, pain, sadness into others unintentionally. He blamed himself, how could he not? He had no time to process any of this. He had it now. He could reflect, process, heal. He wasn't the same James Buchanan Barnes; he never would be again. But he could do everything to get to a point where he felt like he was himself. He was gifted time in exchange for his original soul. 

He never researched his family. He feared the answers he would find. Feared that Hydra went and found them. But that was a fear, not the reality. Maybe they had some good. Maybe Becca had a family, maybe his parents did get the grandchildren, grandbabies as Winifred would say, that they always wanted. Bucky took a bite of bagel, wondering now if he should take the time to discover what he missed out on.

“You don’t have to have an answer now.” Sam said, pulling Bucky back. “Just… think on it. It’s your choice.”

Bucky smiled soft and nodded. “Thanks, Sam.” He took a sip of his coffee. Making a noise, he swallowed and looked back up at Sam. “I have to finish my story.”

“Are you sure?”

Bucky nodded, wanting to tell one of his favorite stories of reckless Steve. “So anyway, I was with Becca and we were playing checkers because, you know, why not, while listening to some radio channel. Steve lived above us and he never needed to knock to come in. Anyway, he comes down and he’s wearing some punk, smug smile on his face which was _never_ good.” Bucky shook his head. “He just announces ‘I won a fight!’ as I take in his disheveled appearance. I think my jaw hit the floor, just at the mere wonder of how Steve won when he had been in so many already and… well… I wouldn’t have considered them winning.

Anyway, Becca looks Steve up and down and goes ‘the side of your shirt is red’. The fucking punk is bleeding! Bleeding on his side! So, I jump into action. I pull him in the bathroom and take his shirt off and the kids got no new bruises, and I can’t find the blood. So, I ask Steve if it’s his and he just nods smugly.”

Sam chuckles, shaking his head. “Jesus, man. This kid sounds like a handful.”

Bucky nodded, eyes wide in amusement. “He was! The blood was coming from a cut on his inner arm. I clean it, bandage it. Of course, the few weeks he heals, I’m watching for infections. But anyway, I ask him how he won the fight. I, this kid,” Bucky shakes his head, his fingers tracing the lid of his coffee cup. “He was fighting, ready, the fucking. Stairs.”

Sam barks out a laugh, covering his mouth as he swallows his bagel before letting the laugh fully erupt. “He what?”

“Becca just looks at me, the look on her face one of pure confusion. I’m about ready to smack Steve upside the head. He said he fell down the steps and fought with the groceries he held in his arms. Winning because he was barely hurt and found them all. He just didn’t want me to be mad that he was, as I remember him saying it, ‘as reckless as you always claim I am’. Which, he was! He never wanted my help, so when he got hurt over something that I felt I could have helped him with, I would call him reckless!” Bucky huffed. “So stubborn. Anyway, yeah, he fell down the stairs and called it battle. Little did I know a few years later he’d be even more stunning in a buff physique for a real battle.”

“Love your little addition of his muscle there, Buck.” Sam shook his head, laughing. “How old was he?”

“Fifteen maybe.”

Sam continues to laugh as he raises his coffee cup to his lips. “I can’t believe he fell down the stairs.”

Bucky shook his head. “He promised me he wasn’t in a fight and that he really did fall. I was so skeptical. Said he got tripped over Ms. Harkens cat who was constantly milling around the stairs and hallways.”

Sam smiled. “So, I can make jokes about Steve being clumsy all the time?”

“Be my guest.”

Sam nods, finishing his bagel. “You know,” He paused, pondering before he decided to continue. “Steve, he really cares about you. He was ready to go to the ends of the Earth and then some for you when he found out you were alive. You’re lucky to have a love like this.”

Bucky nodded, smiling soft as he looked down at his hands. He loved Steve, he always had. He fell in love with him again once he came back into a version of himself. How can a love ever be so powerful? Bucky would spend the rest of his life loving Steve, always wondering how he got so lucky to have the strongest love there is.

“Did you have somebody?” Bucky looked up.

Sam sighed. “Riley. Lost him on a bad call.”

“I’m so sorry.”

Sam shrugged. “Sometimes I wish he came back as something. Maybe not as scary assassin like you, but something.” He lightly joked before turning serious. “I wouldn’t want anybody to go through what you did. I’m sorry you had to.”

“I wasn’t alone.” Bucky shrugged. “But, not to throw a pity party, but I think I had it worst. I was the leader, tortured the most to be perfect always.” He shook his head, not wanting it to go down the dark tunnels. “But thanks, for showing me strength. And, if it means anything, I wish Riley could come back for you too. He’d be proud of where you are.”

Sam sniffled, looking away from Bucky. “You remind me of him.”

“Really?”

Sam nodded, a wet chuckle escaping his lips. “A pain in my ass, but an incredible man.”

\--

“ _Oh_ , you have _got_ to be kidding me.” Steve sneered.

He couldn’t stop the way his lips dripped the venom off his words. Zemo was sitting before them, holding a red book with a black star acting like the book was _new_ to him. But Steve knew that book, it was the book of a _handler_.

And it was Zemo’s book.

Bucky had told Steve about that book when he was telling Steve how he was beginning to loathe the color red. Every time Bucky saw it, he would tell Steve how whatever was red would look nicer in pink or orange. Finally, Steve asked, already assuming the answer, and Bucky confirmed his suspicion. The red for Hydra, the red of his star, the red of the book, the red of blood of people he killed. The simple color consumed Bucky with rage and sadness and he couldn’t stand it.

Steve would never be oblivious to the pain bound together in a book inches from his hands. It was impossible to hide his aggression.

Zemo gave Steve a bone-chilling look. Steve didn’t care. He knew he should, he was putting not only himself in danger, but Natasha and T’Challa as well. But in this moment, nothing else mattered. This man was acting innocent, showing off a book that haunted Bucky down to his core like it was a treasured gift. Just another object within Zemo’s control.

Natasha was sitting beside him, as unmoving as a statue. It was eerie when she moved her lips. “Steve.” She said hauntingly.

Steve shook his head, but if it was to clear his head or to Natasha he couldn’t say. “You seem to know your way around the book pretty well for somebody who just got it.”

“I had some time to look over it.” Zemo retorted, a look level to Steve’s.

Steve crossed his arms, clearly unconvinced.

“May I see the book?” T’Challa asked.

Zemo’s grip tightened on it a fraction before handing it over to T’Challa.

T’Challa thumbed through it, grimacing at some of the pages. Finally, he glanced up, informing Zemo, “There are some missing.”

Steve scoffed. “Where are they?”

He didn't even hesitate to snap. He was angry, blood boiling within his enhanced skin. Zemo had no shame, no mournful expression as he lied to their faces since day one. Steve was proud he never snapped sooner. He hates bullies- Zemo being the biggest of all right now. He couldn’t sit here and listen to Zemo continue to spew his lies.

“How would I know?” Zemo asked, his voice slimy to Steve’s ears.

“You wouldn’t.” Natasha said, her foot pressing tightly to Steve’s under the table as if to ground him.

“Do you know something, Captain Rogers?” Zemo’s eyes drifted down Steve’s body before coming back up to settle on his eyes. “You seem very sure of yourself.”

Steve clenched his jaw, staring at Zemo. “Do you?” His voice was tinged with ice.

Natasha’s foot pressed down on top of Steve’s harshly. Her face gave nothing away.

T’Challa closed the book carefully, setting the book down and sliding it back to Zemo. “They tortured this man.” He said evenly.

Zemo nodded, Steve swore he saw a slight curl of the lip. “And turned him into a monster. As you know.”

Steve scowled once more.

T’Challa nodded once but said nothing. He rubbed at his chin and Steve wondered what he was thinking. Was T’Challa realizing that Bucky needed saved and needed help? Was he thinking about Bucky as the villain or Bucky as the victim?

Steve really hoped the latter.

Natasha was the first to rise. “We should be going. Thank you for this information.” She said, reaching for the book. “Can we take this? Research purposes.”

Zemo hesitated, looking at her hand toward the book then up to her face. “You will bring it back?”

Steve cocked his head. Silently asking why he would need it back.

Natasha gave him a tight lipped, sweet looking smile. “Of course.” She gripped the book, leaving no room for argument.

Zemo reached out grabbing her wrist. “Do you promise?”

She nodded. “I do, Zemo, don’t worry.” She pulled her wrist from his grip and quickly held the book to her side.

Zemo watched with weary eyes.

Steve got up, eager to get out of the suffocating room. Eager to get away from the vile man.

As they all made their way to the doors, Zemo walked beside Steve. “I know about you, Captain Rogers.” He said quietly, his voice threatening underneath his breath.

Before Steve could process the words, he walked faster to be beyond Steve and up by Natasha and T’Challa. “I will see you all soon.” He smiled at them, sending a quick wink at Steve before getting into his car.

Steve was still walking, but he didn’t feel his legs moving underneath him. His mind went fuzzy, numb at the idea of Zemo knowing about him. Knowing about Bucky. That was all it could be. As ignorant to the fact Steve wanted to be, he knew this was a problem. What would Zemo do? Why was Zemo telling him? Was it a warning?

Something pushed through the haze, a light, a revelation. Steve technically had an upper hand. Zemo wanted Bucky back, all of Hydra did. But they wanted him back _alive_ and healthy to put him back into duty. Bucky was working to better himself now both physically and mentally. He wouldn’t be the same Bucky Hydra thought he was. He would defend himself in any way he needed to and that would be _after_ whoever wanted Bucky clawed their way through Steve. Maybe even through Sam and Natasha.

Zemo thought himself threatening, but Steve had the power behind him from his small, knowing team.

Yet, there was still a chill shooting through his spine knowing that Zemo knew. Does he tell Natasha? Was it time to tell T'Challa about Bucky- would T'Challa understand? After T'Challa's reaction to the book, "They tortured this man", there was a sliver of hope that T'Challa may listen to Steve, maybe even believe the set up that Bucky was placed in. Torture, betrayal, set-ups, they all could go hand in hand. There was some hope in telling T'Challa, but the thought still worried him.

“Steve?” Natasha asked, close to Steve’s body, her hand gripping his forearm. “You all right?”

Steve hadn’t realized that his legs had actually stopped in their tracks, leaving him standing feet from the door and inches from Natasha’s car. He spared a glance and saw Zemo’s car had already disappeared down the dirt road. He had missed it while sifting through his mind. “Sorry.” He mumbled, his eyes scanning for T’Challa. When he saw him in the car, he brought his weary eyes to Natasha’s worried ones. “He knows.” Steve said quietly.

“Who knows?” Her brows furrowed.

“Zemo.”

Natasha's eyes widened a fraction. That caused a ripple of worry to shoot up Steve's spine. Natasha was always so careful not to let her reactions rush to her face. "Let's get T'Challa back and we can talk in private."

Steve nodded and started walking toward the car, Natasha by his side. “You can come with me on my errands.”

“Errands?”

“Got to pick up a few things.”

-

Natasha, Steve and T’Challa all walked into Stark tower and went up to the living room floor. The car ride hadn’t been quiet, just small talk and the noise of radio to fill the silence. Nobody wanted to ask Steve about why he was so skeptical of Zemo, maybe they both were too.

T'Challa never mentioned the book again, nor did he ask Steve about his behavior- which each of them knew was not his typical tactic. Steve wasn’t sure why T’Challa hadn’t, since he knew T’Challa and knew he wouldn’t hold back. Steve hadn’t been sure if bringing it up was the best move, so he didn’t. Natasha had the book; they could look at it together before reconvening with T’Challa about it. Maybe then he would say something.

After T’Challa made his way up to his floor after a brief goodbye, Natasha turned to Steve. “Ready?” She had the book tucked away in her clothes.

Steve nodded and walked with her back downstairs and to his car. Getting in, he turned to her. “Book store first. Rescue shelter second.”

Natasha quirked a brow.

Steve smiled softly. “I’m getting Bucky a cat.”

Natasha smiled, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “Does he know?”

Steve shook his head. “Nope.” He popped the ‘P’.

Steve picked up the large stack of books from the bookstore and then they were off to the pet store. Neither one had yet to bring up what Zemo said. Steve wasn’t sure what to say because he wasn’t sure what all he knew. All he knew was that Zemo knew- but then he didn’t even know the specifics of that. Everything was a jumbled mess, and all Steve could do was protect Bucky and give him the best.

And his best would have to be good enough, but he wondered would it ever be? Bucky grew up giving Steve the world on a silver platter, saving him from cornered fights and working multiple jobs to help afford Steve’s medicine and a new box of charcoal pencils. Bucky wanted Steve to have everything and Steve couldn’t even give that to Bucky.

_You let him fall._

_No._

Steve clenched his jaw, his eyes unmoving on the road before him. While he drove, his mind was elsewhere. He was warring with himself. He didn’t let Bucky fall, he reached, he _tried_. Could he have tried harder? Only he and the train could answer that. Nobody else bared witness, nobody else could reassure Steve that he tried his hardest other than himself- and that wasn’t going to be good enough. Not even all these years later.

As long as the image of Bucky falling, screaming, arms flailing, lived within Steve's mind- the guilt and self-blame will inhabit the neighboring side. Bucky wouldn't have let Steve fall, _no_. Bucky would have reached harder, maybe Bucky would have even went after him. They were always together, a package deal. Bucky wouldn't have been so selfish; he would have done anything to save Steve. If that meant going to, he would have.

But Steve didn't do that.

_Stop it._

Steve could only make up for it now. Yet the guilt seeped through the cracks in the broken and dusted shell of what he used to be. He wasn’t the same Steve, he was Captain America to the world, Cap or Steve to his friends, just Steve to fewer friends.

To Bucky, he was Steve Rogers. Yet, he retreated. How could he tell Bucky of the feelings of guilt and hurt? How could he tell Bucky of times he cried over Bucky’s death? Cried of nightmares reoccurring of it? How could he tell Bucky that even though Bucky was safe with him he still ached?

Bucky had been through so much pain. How could Steve dare to plague him with his own?

Treating Bucky like a true prince helped ease some guilt. All he couldn't give Bucky since the time they met; he could make up for now. They were gifted time. This better life that Steve could help provide, it was what Bucky deserved.

Which is why he was pulled outside of a shelter full of adorable cats.

Natasha’s voice cut through the walls he had started pushing up within his mind. “I can tell you’re thinking. But can we talk about Zemo?”

“Not much to say.” Steve shrugged a shoulder as he shut his car off. He wallowed the whole drive, he couldn’t possibly talk about this now. “He knows something. I don’t know what, just that it’s something. Probably Bucky.” He sighed.

“So, what do we do? We have to tell Sam-”

“No.”

Natasha scoffed. “No? Steve, I’m sorry we’re in this mess but we have to tell Sam. Bucky too. For _all_ of our safety.” She paused, turning to face Steve head on. “Maybe even T’Challa.”

Steve looked out the window, jaw set. “Can we just go get a cat?”

“Steve-”

“Please.” His voice came out exasperated. “Look, we can talk to Sam but not Bucky yet, okay? I’m on the fence about T’Challa, especially after he saw the book.”

Natasha opened the car door. “Fine.” She lied, and Steve knew it. Natasha never gave up the fight on anything. This would be no different.

-

Returning home with a stack of books under his arm and the cutest, fluffiest white cat Steve had ever seen in his life, he felt good. He was excited to give Bucky both of these things. He already felt lighter, better with the affection only a pet can give. He hoped Bucky felt it just as instantly.

Bucky didn’t come out from their bedroom, which was not super surprising to Steve. Bucky took a lot of baths, and a lot of naps. Bucky was if nothing a cat who just liked water. He wasn’t one to always greet Steve. Which was fine, Steve liked when Bucky made this place like home because it is his home.

He set the science fiction and nonfiction books down on the table and turned to Natasha who was setting the cat supplies down on the table. “Let me go get Bucky.”

Steve walked to the bedroom, listening for any signs of Bucky. When all he heard was silence, he listened closer for snoring, breathing- nothing.

Steve opened the bedroom door, and his suspicions were confirmed. The bed was still rumpled from their night’s sleep. Bucky’s pajamas from the night before laying in his spot. Checking the bathroom, he went wide eyed to find Bucky wasn’t even in the bath.

“Bucky.” He called, his voice a little frantic as he ran out of his room and started checking the guest bedrooms and other bathroom for any signs.

Nothing.

Steve ran back to the kitchen and grabbed his phone off the table.

“Where’s Bucky?” Natasha asked, trying to stay calm for Steve but he could see the worry in her eyes.

He shook his head, quickly dialing Bucky’s phone. _Pick up pick up pick up_. The phone call was sent to voicemail. Twice.

Natasha’s fingers were moving quick across her phone, texting Bucky as Steve switched to calling Sam. On the third time, Sam answered.

“Hey Cap!” Sam said cheerfully through the phone. “Everything-”

“Bucky’s gone.” Steve said quickly, his voice wavering on its own accord.

Sam paused, leaving Steve with silence and the sound of his own blood thumping heavily in his ears. Then slowly, Sam responded, “He’s fine, Steve. He’s with me.”

Steve breathed out heavily, slumping against the table. “You scared me.” Steve breathed out, placing his forehead in his hand. “Where are you two?”

“We’re at the park- he’s fine by the way. Nobody’s recognized him. He’s hidden pretty well. We got breakfast and got caught up out here.”

There was shuffling and then Bucky’s voice through the speaker. Steve slumped further into relief. “Hi, Stevie.” His voice was soft, light in the haze of worry.

“Bucky, hi sweetheart.”

Bucky chuckled softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you, doll. We were hoping to be back before you.”

“It’s okay.” Steve said, because it was. He had the underlying worry about Zemo knowing since he left. Coming home to no Bucky- Steve felt his heart clench some more.

“We’re going to head back.” Bucky said tentatively, concern in his voice making Steve feel guilty.

“You don’t have to come home, Buck. I was just…” _Thought Zemo found you._ “Just worried.”

“I understand. Don’t worry Stevie. I’m with you till the end of the line, remember? If anyone ever tries to take me, I’ll leave a sign.”

Steve nervously chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“See you soon, okay? I love you.” He could hear Bucky’s smile through the phone.

“I love you too.”

\--

When Bucky got home, he was hit with the smell of something… odd. He looked around, spotting the litter box sitting against the wall on a small orange mat. “Uhm.” He said quietly, setting his second coffee (Sam and he got another on the way back) that was half empty on the table next to the books. He smiled at the stack, excited to open one up and get hit with the smell of books. His favorite.

But first, he needed to know why they now had a litter box on their kitchen floor.

“Steve?” Bucky called.

Sam looked around the corner into the hallway and barked out a laugh. “Well isn’t this just beautiful?”

When Bucky looked down the hallway where Sam was, he saw Steve on his knees, a small, fluffy white cat batting at the feather hanging off a stick Steve was holding. Next to Steve was Natasha, watching Steve with a fond smile.

Bucky’s eyes locked on the small creature. The cat looked small before Steve’s hulking presence, making Bucky worried. His metal arm clenched into a fist, suddenly very aware of the presence of destruction attached to his warm body. He could hurt that cat- accidently of course- if he forgot the strength of his hand. He didn’t want to do that. He would never forgive himself! The warmness spreading through his chest at seeing such a soft being did nothing to ease the fear he had of himself.

“Hey!” Steve got up, lifting the white cat in his arms, and cradling it to his shirt. He looked so natural, carefree in the act. “I want you to meet somebody.”

Bucky swallowed thickly. “What’s its name?”

“You get to name her.” Steve said softly, noticing the worry on Bucky’s face. “She’s ours, but she’s yours.”

Bucky shook his head, taking a step back from Steve and the beautiful cat. “No.” He said quietly. “No, I could hurt it. I could hold her too tight,”

“It’s okay.” Steve said gently. “You won’t hurt her, Buck. You’ve been doing so well. You deserve to have somebody here with you when I can’t be. You deserve to have somebody to comfort you in the middle of the night when you don’t want to wake me up.” Bucky let Steve approach him and put a hand on his waist, steadying the sway Bucky didn’t realize he was doing. “They stole a lot from you, but they couldn’t steal who you are at your core.” He used his free hand to coax Bucky’s stiff arms up from his sides. “The gentle, loving man you always have been.” He carefully placed the cat in his arms.

Bucky, tears pooling in his eyes, looked down at the cat. He was tense, shaking slightly as he adjusted to cradle her to his chest like he had seen Steve do. The cat nuzzled into his sweatshirt. “I love her.” He said barely above a whisper.

Because he did love her. He loved pets, he always had. He just never felt he could have one, not now. Not after everything he did. How could he possibly look after such a sweet, innocent creature when he was the exact opposite?

Yet, Steve stood before him with so much love and trust, infectious to Bucky as he held the white ball of fluff.

Steve smiled and kissed Bucky’s cheek. “You can name her whatever you want, my love.”

Bucky nodded, his flesh thumb stroking the small head of the cat. “Alpine.” He said quietly. “Her name is Alpine.”

Sam reached out and ran a hand down the exposed fur of Alpine’s back. “She’s adorable.”

Steve nodded. “She reached out at the shelter and was swatting at me. I knew I had to bring her home.”

Bucky looked up at Steve, a small smile on his face as his thumb continued stroking Alpine. “How was your meeting?”

Steve smiled, but it was smaller, his teeth biting down slightly on his lip. Bucky didn't particularly like that reaction. "I wanted to know how your day with Sam went."

Before Bucky could comment on Steve’s retort, Sam shook his head with a slight eyeroll. “We have time for both. I would also like to know what happened today.”

Natasha gave Sam a quick look. “And you will. Let’s start with Bucky being in public first.”

They all moved from their standing spots in the hallway to sitting in the living room. Bucky had yet to put Alpine down, still holding her close to his chest with gentle care. He was in love, completely head over heels. The small ball of life in his arms nuzzled into him, as if she were made for him. He felt his heart melt.

“So, I told Cyborg here we should go get breakfast.” Sam began, sitting down in the recliner.

“This was your idea?” Steve asked, eyebrows raised with not anger, but a sense of uneasiness.

Sam nodded. “And I knew it would be fine and it _was_. Don’t get all weird on me.” He leaned back in the chair. “He isn’t in the spotlight anymore, it’s been awhile. The only radar he’s on is the Avengers.” 

Natasha nodded in agreement. “So where did you two go?”

Bucky smiled; his eyes still cast down to watch Alpines eyes flutter as Bucky pet her. He could feel the gentle purr beneath his flesh fingers. “We got bagels and coffee, then we went to the park and talked. It was really nice.” He admitted. “Nobody even spared a second look at me. It was… I hadn’t felt that way in a long time.”

“Safe?”

Bucky shook his head. “Free.”

Steve, for a split second, looked like a kicked puppy before returning his look back to normal. It was like he didn’t want Bucky to see the way the one word wounded him. Bucky instantly started rambling. “I’m free here! I know that!” He subconsciously pulled Alpine closer to his chest. “I know you want me to be happy, Stevie. And I am! I know I’m free here but to the world I’m not. To be out there and feel free in a space with strangers, it hasn’t been like that in so long.”

Steve nodded once, wrapping his arm around Bucky, and pulling him closer. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” He whispered sincerely, placing a warm kiss to Bucky’s temple. “I was so focused on keeping you safe, I didn’t even think about that. I’m so sorry, my love.” His voice sounded pained. “We can go out. On a date.”

“Oh?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Does Mr. Steve Rogers have a romantic evening of flowers and chocolate planned?”

Steve shook his head and looked at Bucky. “How about tomorrow, or whatever day you want, we go to the science museum and get dinner?”

Bucky smiled softly, his eyes welling with tears. _The Science Museum._ All the science fiction he’s read, the scanning of science museum websites across the world- he could go to one. He could see the exhibits he has only read about. “I would love that. So much.” He whispered, starstruck at the idea.

Steve nodded. “We can get you a t-shirt now.” He flicked the visor of Bucky’s SPACE hat.

Bucky nodded happily in agreement. “I can be a walking science billboard.” He looked down at Alpine.

Steve kissed Bucky’s temple. “I’m glad you had fun today.”

Bucky nodded. “Now your turn.” He watched Steve’s subtle change in his jaw.

“Yes, do share.” Sam leaned forward.

Natasha looked down at her hands. Bucky never saw her show any signs of nervousness before. “Zemo brought the book today.”

Bucky leaned forward, his head resting on Alpines. Now he understood why pets were such good companions. While his heart started to beat out of his chest with worry just around the idea of the book, Alpine was there to ground him. Bucky breathed in the scent of Alpine and closed his eyes. He heard rustling, looking up to watch the cover of the book emerge from Natasha, who was sliding it out from her clothes. His eyes shot open in a mix of panic and fear.

“He said it wasn’t his. I knew it was. So, I called him out.” Steve said.

Bucky couldn't tear his eyes from Natasha's lap, where the book that nearly destroyed him laid innocently. He tensed further as the world caught up with him. The words Steve said still steeping into his mind, "I called him out." Bucky felt his brain flood with anger, anger at the book, anger at Steve.

Bucky sat up straight, Alpine adjusting to his movement somewhat bitterly. “ _You what_?” He snapped once he remembered how to speak through his haze. “Are you fucking insane, Steve? This isn’t some asshole in a back alley, this is a fucking _Hydra_ Agent! He could bring me to his knees and turn me into a monster with _one_ word from that book!” He pointed to Natasha’s lap with his metal finger. “And you just _‘called him out’_? Do you have any idea what that man is capable of? Who he _knows_?” Bucky was shaking, his limbs tense beneath his clothes. “Let me remind you, _Brock Rumlow_ , for starters! He works within your sphere, remember him? The man who found my ‘safe’ house? Zemo sure does!” He rubbed a hand over his face. “You can’t pick fights with every single person you meet, Steve.”

Sam was silent, watching Steve who was also silent. Natasha had slightly wide eyes, but Bucky could see lurking behind the shock of his explosion was understanding.

Steve was looking at Bucky, then down to his hands that were ringing together in his lap. “He said he knows too. About me. This, I assume.” Steve admitted quietly, not looking up.

Bucky felt like a sixteen-year-old in Brooklyn again, cleaning Steve’s cuts and telling him he needed to stop fighting with people who would hurt him. He knew why Steve did it, and he was always so proud, but he never knew when the last fight would be. He never knew if he would turn the corner and see Steve too hurt to survive, or already dead.

He felt that way all over again.

A ticking time bomb over either his life or Steve’s. In this case probably both. 

He was back in Hydra’s hands. Zemo looming over him with the book as Brock lowered the metal around his aching skull. He could feel the scars pulsate.

Bucky shook his head. His teeth clenched so hard he thought they might shatter. He was feeling too much all at once. Too much pain for himself. Too much pain for Steve. “I cannot sit here and watch you hurt yourself again.” He said quietly.

“I’m not hurting myself. He isn’t hurting me.” Steve looked up at Bucky. “Nobody is hurt.”

“I am!” Bucky erupted. “I am and you are too!” Bucky finally let the squirming Alpine leave his arms. She curled up in a ball by his side. “I was always so proud of you growing up. You wanted to be the best and in my eyes you always have been. And right now, I want to feel that way, but I can’t- you want to know why, Steve? Because that man can kill me, and fucking replace me with the soldier. All this progress, _gone_!” He threw his arms up in a ‘poof!’ motion. “You don’t think that hurts? That he can just _erase_ _me_?” Bucky sucked in a breath. “They could take you apart too. Take you in and make you their toy soldier too, don’t you get it? They have the technology, the knowledge. You can’t win this one like you tried to win back alley fights, Steve. This isn’t that.” His voice was growing hoarse, his face blooming red. “They’ll hurt you and they’ll hurt me, and I can’t do it, Steve. I can’t watch that. You thought seeing me on a table in the war was bad? I don’t want to see you like that.” Bucky shocked himself at how dark his words were, how they came out low with a range of emotion. “And I can’t let you see me like that.”

Sam got up, hands toward Natasha in an ushering out motion. Both of them walked to the elevator. Bucky didn’t try to stop them, Steve didn’t either. Bucky just watched as the elevator’s hungry doors swallowed their friends away.

It wasn’t until a few moments after the elevator doors closed that Steve spoke again. “Buck, I, I didn’t want to scare you with this.” Steve began.

Bucky cut him off. “Zemo knowing doesn’t scare me as much as you getting on his level.” His tone was icy. “He isn’t some asshole from when we were kids.”

“I have been a soldier since I came out of the ice, Bucky. I have fought aliens and whatever other weird shit. You don’t think I can handle Zemo?”

“No!” Bucky jumped up, his arms in the air. “No, I don’t! Did you even listen to me? I have always believed in you, Steve. But this man has haunted my nightmares ever since I tried to be myself again. This man can ruin me, and you don’t get that. You don’t _want_ to get that!”

“I do.” Steve was trying to stay calm, but his voice was wavering into frustration. Bucky cursed how stubborn Steve still was. “That is why I’m doing all of this.”

“I cannot let you do all of this if you’re just going to throw yourself in the fire and fucking burn, Steve.” Bucky crossed his arms. “I cannot sit here and watch that. I cannot sit here and lose you.” Bucky’s eyes flooded with tears.

He was breaking. His heart to heart with Sam about Becca was like a crack in his hard armor. Now this, the thought of losing Steve to a man who helped take everything from him. He couldn’t bare it. His armor was being shattered.

“Nobody is going in the fire, Bucky.”

Bucky stood in silence, trying to grasp his muddled thoughts. Finally, he asked the one question that was looming at the front of his mind. "You look in the book?" Bucky's voice was quiet, a tear rolling down his cheek.

Steve got up. “I looked at your files-”

“Did you look in the book?” Bucky repeated.

Steve shook his head, reaching out to wipe a tear from Bucky’s cheek.

Bucky bit his lip, his gaze moving from Steve’s. “Maybe you should. Maybe then you’d get it.” He looked down at Alpine. “Look,” Bucky sniffled as he reached down to gently pet her. “I’m scared.” Bucky admitted, more tears spilling over. “I told Sam today that sometimes I miss everything so much. And sometimes, I come here, and I feel home because you’re here. When you do stuff like this, the thought of losing home after I just got it back- Steve you can’t do this to me.” Bucky kept his eyes on Alpine as he cried. “It’s selfish, I know. I just…” Bucky choked on a sob and instantly covered his mouth.

Steve wrapped his arms around him. “You aren’t selfish for wanting to be safe, sweetheart.” He pressed his lips to Bucky’s forehead. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

Bucky buried his face into Steve’s chest, tears being absorbed by his clothes.

Steve ran his fingers soothingly through Bucky’s hair. “I love you. I’m sorry I did that. I should have known better.”

Bucky sniffled, his grip on Steve’s t-shirt getting tighter. “You didn’t know.”

“I should have.” Steve kissed the top of Bucky’s head.

They stood there, the sound of Bucky softly crying being the only noise heard throughout the open floor plan. Steve didn't let go of Bucky, stroking his hair and holding him close. Bucky felt safe, protected when Steve held him so close. So preciously. It was soft, but hard too. The anger that Bucky cocooned himself in was now being replaced by the safety Steve provided. He was scared, but he would be okay. He already lived through hell. Whatever life gave him now, nothing would compare. 

He was home now.

It was Steve who broke the silence. "Are you sure you want me to look at the book?" He asked quietly. "There are pages missing."

Bucky felt another round of sobs arise. “Of course, he would steal pages.” He laughed bitterly and wet. “I don’t _want_ you to, but I think it could help you get him. And understand. So, I do.”

“Both confusing and noted.”

Bucky playfully slapped his side. “Don’t make fun of me.” He pouted.

“I could never.” Steve tilted Bucky’s head up. Blue eyes meeting blue eyes vivid with love. “It’s going to be okay, pretty.”

Bucky leaned up; his tear covered lips connecting with Steve’s gently. When they disconnect, he asks, “Can we just have a chill day tomorrow with Alpine? Then go on our date the next?”

“Anything you want.” Steve smiled softly. “I’m yours, Buck.”


End file.
